


Ace in the Hole

by bmot



Category: SHINee
Genre: Friends With Benefits To Lovers, M/M, esports au, overwatch league au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 10:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmot/pseuds/bmot
Summary: Becoming a personal chef for an esports team in LA isn't what Jinki imagined he'd be doing to advance his career -- but it's a job, and one that'll take him far from things he's been trying to forget. The distance will give him time to recover and spend time on himself. The only hitch in his plan is the Saviors' star offense player, Taemin, who seems all too happy to strike up a friendship with him -- and something more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a while since I posted anything...part of that’s because of working on my big wip and the other part of it is because I wanted to wait till the next thing I post is 100% done before putting it out there. Once this is all posted, it’s gonna be just under 30k. ^^ As always, thanks to my wife and my best writer buddies Naya and Aimee for betaing. <3
> 
> I think I’ve mentioned before that I got really into overwatch league this year? And like always, when I get into something, I write a shinee au for it... ^^; Taemin’s a pro player and Jinki is the recently-hired chef for his team. The story doesn’t require any prior knowledge of overwatch/esports...I did it kinda like my dragon age au to make sure it’s accessible to anyone. [ Here’s a shitty edit of tracer with what I imagine their skins to be like. ](https://imgur.com/a/IXByhzU) (And ofc, if you want the gritty details about Taemin’s hero pool/who he’s based on/who plays what on his team I’d be happy to answer.) I tried to do my best for the cooking part with research, but obvs I don’t have an in depth knowledge of Korean cooking, so...pls forgive any errors.

The room flickers in the bluish light of the muted television. Jinki adjusts the pillows stacked besides him, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. He wants to at least have a _chance_ of dozing off, considering his new job starts tomorrow. But the leather of the living room couch is unworn and unforgivingly stiff -- no better than his new bed -- and the strangeness of being out of Korea for the first time in his life would keep him awake regardless.

Tucking an arm behind his head, he squints at the time on the setbox -- 3 AM -- and settles down to continue watching the drama he’d put on an hour ago.

Despite it’s poor ratings, he’d been following the show since it started. The plot’s cliche, the dialogue’s atrocious, and the actors are awful -- but he gave it a try when he saw how much the the male lead looked like Changsun.

Jaw clenched, he reaches back for the remote.

 _Don’t think of him_. _He’s on the other side of the world._

He flicks down a channel, then one more, until he lands on the last of the three Korean-language channels available in LA. A music show isn’t something he’d normally watch, but at least the ridiculous makeup and outfits make it easy entertainment...

“I was wondering when you’d change the channel. That drama’s pretty bad, from what I’ve heard.”

Jinki jolts up. The remote falls from his hand to the wooden floor with a clatter that makes both him and the man behind the couch to flinch.

“Sorry -- I didn’t think I’d startle you.”

“It’s fine.”

In the dim light, it takes Jinki a moment to recognize the man’s face. He’d only met Taemin that afternoon, when the manager had introduced him to the team over their take-out lunch.

He picks the remote up from the floor and sets it aside, saying nothing more. They hadn’t talked during their first meeting -- Taemin had sulked silently through the meal and left for his room the moment he was done eating. All Jinki knows about him is the few facts he’d picked up from reading articles about the Savior team.

His in-game name is ACE. All caps, like most of his teammates, which apparently was a common thing with pros. Taemin is -- or was -- their star player, until his recent slump. And now he’s bearing the blame of their loss streak.

Jinki doesn’t know enough about Overwatch to say whether or not that’s true, but he knows better than to bring it up.

Taemin stuffs his hands into his pockets. “You’re up late. Are you going to be cooking for us tomorrow?”

“It’s what I was hired to do, so yeah,” Jinki says. “I’ll be making all your meals from here on out. I’m just having trouble sleeping.”

“The move is tough at first. It took my body a while to adjust to LA.”

Jinki raises a brow at him. “If you’re adjusted, why’re you up so late?”

“I was grinding out some practice and lost track of time. Then I wanted a snack, so I came out here and saw you...” He shrugs. “Figured I’d say hello.”

Jinki stares at him for a long moment, unsure what to say. It’s hard to see the relaxed, smiling man in front of him is the same gloomy one he’d met that afternoon, but he’s more than willing to toss that first impression aside. He could hardly blame him for not being chatty after another loss.

He drapes an arm over the back of the couch. “Would you want me to cook you something?”

Taemin blinks at him, surprised. “Wouldn’t that take a while?”

“Depending on how stocked the fridge is, I can probably come up with something quick.”

Taemin’s lips spread into grin. “Well, if you’re offering...”

“Sure. It’ll be good for me to get used to the kitchen before I have to cook for all nine of you tomorrow.”

With a small groan, he stands and stretches to ease out the cramps in his legs. Being crammed on a plane for half the day had made even standing feel like a chore. The living room is separated from the kitchen by only a half-counter, but Taemin still follows after him to flick the light on for him.

“I’m not really allowed to use anything but the microwave, but I can show you where things are if you have any questions...”

Jinki snorts as he opens the fridge to look for ingredients. “What’d you burn?”

“I never said I’d _burned_ anything.”

“Usually people only are banned from kitchens after they’ve started a fire.”

“I didn’t start a fire -- just ruined one of our pans.” Taemin scratches the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “I was trying to make ramen and burned all the water out...”

Jinki laughs and walks to the pantry, checking it as well. There’s plenty of rice cakes in the fridge, along with gochujang, but no anchovies for the starting broth -- which he’d want, if he were to make tteokbokki to his usual standard...

He doesn’t want to make anything average, but looking at Taemin’s eager expression -- and considering his admitted lack of skills -- he has a feeling even the lazy version will impress him.

Closing the pantry door behind him, he turns to Taemin. “How does tteokbokki sound? I don’t have the ingredients to make it up to my usual standard, but--”

“That sounds _amazing_ ,” Taemin agrees, eyes alight. “Will it take long?”

“Maybe thirty minutes, at most.”

“I can wait for that.”

Smiling, Jinki pushes up his sleeves to his elbows and begins pulling the ingredients he’ll need out of the fridge. Taemin circles out around to the half-counter, where several stools had been set up along the edge, and plops down in one of them to watch as Jinki sets a pan on the stove to heat and starts cutting the green onions.

As his knife dashes against the cutting board, Taemin leans further over the counter onto his elbows, mouth open in awe.

“Damn. You really _are_ a professional.”

Jinki laughs. “Your team is paying me, so I should hope so.”

He starts on the mix of gochujang, sugar, and pepper flakes that he’ll add with the rice cakes once the flavor of the kelp has seeped-in enough to make a broth. The stove is on the other end of the kitchen from the counter, forcing him to keep his back to Taemin as he works, but he can still tell he’s being watched.

It should make him uneasy, probably, considering they’d just met. But it’s hard for him to be uncomfortable in a kitchen, and at such a late hour, it feels more like a strange and spontaneous form of intimacy than an intrusion.

After a few minutes of stirring, the rice cakes finally turn soft, and the sauce thickens to the shiny, orange-red coating indicating its done. He dumps out the pan of tteokbokki onto the plate, feeling his own mouth begin to water as the scent wafts up, then carries it over to where Taemin is waiting -- somehow, with chopsticks already in hand.

He sets the plate down warily. “You should probably wait a minute, it’s still hot--”

Without looking up, Taemin plucks one of the steaming tteokbokki and plops it in his mouth.

Immediately, his eyes scrunch up. He flaps his hands violently and leaps out of the stool. “Shit, shit!”

Jinki holds a hand towards him, as if to help, and watches as he struggles to swallow the too-hot piece of rice cake.  “I tried to warn you -- it’s not that it’s too spicy, is it?”

“No, it’s fine.” He hits his chest with his fist and coughs. “I’m just a dumbass.”

“Or just really hungry?”

Taemin grins back at him. “It can be both.” He picks up another piece, and this time he blows on it thoroughly before placing it in his mouth and letting out a small and satisfied moan. “These are _good._ We got some from this Korean place we found nearby, but nothing can beat having a personal chef make you a serving of tteokbokki at four in the morning.”

With a light laugh, Jinki grabs a pair of chopsticks from one of the kitchen drawers and takes a seat. Taemin eyes him suspiciously.

“I’m not that hungry, don’t worry. I just want a few.”

“I was just teasing,” Taemin says. “You made them, so you can have as many as you want.”

Jinki smiles and picks one up for himself, chewing it critically as Taemin quickly makes his way through another three of the rice cakes. After grabbing one more, he gestures for Taemin to have the rest, watching from the corner of his eye as he concentrates wholeheartedly on devouring the entire plate of food.

He’s cute, when he eats. Jinki hadn’t noticed before -- because of how surly he’d seemed, and because of how focused he’d been on making a good impression with the rest of the Savior team -- but now he can’t help but admire Taemin’s looks. His jaw is well-defined, his smile handsome, and his hair is a plain black that draws attention to his dark eyes and the silver piercings he has in both ears. Though his hair is messy, it looks _good_ , and Jinki watches with a little too much interest when Taemin stops eating for a moment to run a hand through his bangs.

When Taemin finally shifts his attention away from the tteokbokki to meet his eyes, he quickly looks away.

Taemin frowns at him. “You want the last one?” His lips pout around the question as he pokes the rice cake with his chopsticks.

Jinki shakes his head. “No, you can have it.”

With a broad smile and a small mumble of _thanks_ , Taemin picks up the last rice cake and eats it without hesitation. The silence that follows is comfortable, but Jinki finds himself zoning out and nearly staring again. He quickly pushes back the barstool and picks up the now-empty plate, bringing it with him as he hurries to the kitchen.

“I’ll clean this up. We should get some sleep, since you have a game tomorrow.”

“Yeah, probably.” Taemin agrees, though his head is tilted in clear confusion at Jinki’s dash away. “Thanks again for cooking -- I’m looking forward to breakfast.”

Jinki gives him a parting nod before he leaves the room, then turns his attention to the dishes and exhales.

 

* * *

 

Spoons and chopsticks clatter in the background as Coach Sooman goes over the Savior’s strategy for the match ahead. There’s no manners among the players in the scramble to finish off all the food Jinki had cooked for their first meal of the day. Elbows bump into hands as the players reach for second servings of side dishes, and squabbles over the last remaining pieces of meat are resolved with hushed games of paper-scissors-rock whenever their coach stops in his speech to look down at his playbook.

Coach Sooman flips a page and looks to Taemin and Joy, his partner on offense.

“We’ll have to be careful not to get caught up in any one-vs-one with the Lion’s offense. With Taemin’s performance lately, there’s no guarantee we’d win that duel, and we know they’ll use that as a distraction to dive on our backline.”

“Got it,” Joy says as Taemin grabs another piece of egg. When he hums happily and reaches for another, the coach sighs.

“I’m talking to you, Taemin. Stop stuffing your face and at least make a show of listening.”

Taemin’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he looks up. “Sorry. The new chef is just really good.”

Jinki hides his smile by looking down at the dish he’s washing, but not before sharing it with Taemin.

The coach grumbles and clears his throat. “Yes, we’re all hoping having you well-fed will get us out of our slump. But we can’t win with our stomachs alone.”

Taemin laughs lightly. “Yeah, but it’ll help.”

“We hope so,” Coach Sooman stands, lips tight. “Get ready to be out in ten. We’ll do our first scrim and warm up at the arena.”

The sound of chairs being pushed back fills the dining room as half the team stands to gather their things. Jinki wishes each player good luck when they pass the kitchen and file out the front door.

Once the team is gone, he finishes cleaning up the team’s dishes from the first meal and the rest of the kitchen so he has the whole counter to work on the post-match dinner. He’s planned to go all-out, with the coach’s permission -- short ribs and a few dozen side dishes -- and has to get started on the marinade and figuring out the grill in the house’s backyard.

The Saviors’ game starts at four. He puts it on his phone to watch from the corner of his eye as he washes and cuts vegetables. Though he hasn’t the slightest idea how to follow a game as fast-paced as Overwatch appears to be, the match casters’ commentary makes it obvious the Saviors are falling short.

The final score is a disappointing three-one. When the last map is lost, the camera pans out to the team’s faces, which scale between stoic to downcast. Taemin’s frustration when they stand to shake hands with the winning team is obvious from the tension of his bows, and it’s then that Jinki closes the stream to focus on getting the grill started so it’ll be ready when the team returns.

Judging by how much the team had enjoyed the earlier meal, he’s going to be able to lift their spirits with the feast he’s preparing.

The team’s return brings life back to the team house, though the air is tense. Kibum, Joy, and Wonsik pile into the den for a hushed post-mortem of their match, while Minho and Taemin disappear upstairs into their shared room without a word.

Only when he begins bringing food to the table does the mood seem to lift. The first plate of ribs he brings in from the grill pulls the group from the den into the dining room, and a few minutes later, the rest of the team has piled in to eat the side dishes he’d placed on the table and watch him eagerly through the window as he cooks the next serving of meat. Every bite is followed with praise, and the coach waves him over after clearing his plate.

“We made a good move, hiring you. I haven’t ever seen Minho bounce back from a loss like this.” He nods to the tall, lean-built man on the far end of the table. “He and Taemin take losses hard -- they usually sulk in their room the rest of the night after one. It’s good to see at least one of them get out here with us.”

“I’m glad to help,” Jinki says. “Do you think there’s some kind of meal that could drag Taemin out, too?”

Before the coach can answer, Kibum -- who Jinki has pegged as the blunt one of the team -- scoffs. “If meat doesn’t bring him out of his cave, nothing will. I think he’ll always be testy when he underperforms.”

Coach Sooman glances at him sidelong. “Remember what I said about discussing your teammates?”

Kibum sighs heavily and reaches for another piece of cubed radish. “It’s not mean if it’s the truth...”

Before Sooman can respond, Jinki bows out by picking up a few empty dishes and returning to the kitchen. He might work for the team, but he’s not sure he wants to be privy to their grudges.

The rest of the night, thankfully, passes without any more internal strife. He cleans up after the team leaves, hand-washing the quality pans and cutting boards he’d used, and loading up the dishwasher with all the serving bowls and utensils that’d been dirtied over the night. By the time it’s done, he’s exhausted, and he eagerly returns to his single room to collapse into bed.

He opens up a phone game to pass the time, but loses interest quickly, and ends up in his contacts -- where Changsun’s name stills sit at the top.

Against his better judgement, he taps on the name. His heart clenches as he rereads the last few messages where he’d arranged to pick up his remaining things from Changsun’s apartment.

That’d been two months ago: just long enough to forget when he’s busy, and just long enough to remember when he has a moment of idleness.

Not wanting to be tempted into messaging him, he tosses his phone aside and rolls out of bed. He can at least make himself useful by taking inventory of what was left in the fridge after the feast he’d made today.

His room is close to the living room, and the glow of the television gives him enough light to find his way there.

Taemin is slumped on the couch, watching some music countdown show with glazed eyes. He barely glances up when Jinki enters, but still mumbles a greeting.

“Hey.”

Jinki raises a hand in greeting. “Hey. What’re you doing up this late?”

Taemin gestures to the television. “Just watching some garbage. Couldn’t sleep again. I took too long of a nap after we got back from the game.”

“That sucks,” Jinki says. He shuffles awkwardly when Taemin says nothing further. “I’m going to take inventory now to make my morning grocery trip a little easier.”

“Smart.”

It’s a clear end to the conversation. But when he moves to leave and breaks eye contact with Taemin, he sees his expression fall from dull  to something almost anguished -- and against his better judgement, he stops beside the couch.

“Did you, uh, ever eat anything for dinner? I noticed you weren’t there.”

Taemin shrugs without turning to look at him. “I found something to snack on.”

“Alright, but feel free to let me know if you want me to whip up something for you. I’m sure we still have enough ingredients left for a single serving of something.”

Taemin scoffs. “I’m not going to make you go through the trouble of cooking me a meal this time of night.”

“I’m fine with it,” Jinki says. “C’mon, I’m sure you’re craving something.”

Taemin frowns at the television, guilty, but eventually lifts his head to look at Jinki with a pout.“If it’s not too much trouble...pajeon sounds really good right now.”

“Pajeon coming right up, then,” Jinki says. He begins walking towards the kitchen, and hearing Taemin follow him, speaks over his shoulder. “And don’t feel guilty about this, I could make these in my sleep.”

Taemin’s lips pull into a small smile. “I’d like to see you try that.”

Jinki laugh and opens the fridge to pull out green onions. Taemin takes a seat on the other side of the counter and rests his head in his hands, watching in silence as Jinki’s knife moves up-and-down the cutting board. When he turns, he feels Taemin’s gaze shift to the back of his neck.

“What made you decide to take this job?”

“Um--” Jinki swallows and looks over his shoulder. He can tell Taemin’s curiosity is innocent, but the question still catches him off guard. He pulls out a pan and flicks on the burner before answering. “I wanted a change, I guess.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. Is there a reason you chose LA in particular?”

“Not really -- just heard of the opening through a friend. I’d have been happy to go anywhere outside of Korea.”

Taemin raises an eyebrow. “Bad breakup?”

He grimaces. “...Something like that.”

“Well, it’s her loss. You’re willing to cook on demand and you’re good at it. I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want to keep a tight hold on that.”

“Thanks.” Jinki grins, but doesn’t correct him on the pronouns. Keeping the team in the dark about his sexuality is likely the only option he has for keeping his employment.

Taemin goes quiet again as he finishes mixing the batter and frying the two pancakes he can get out of the leftover green onions, but the mood is still lighter. The invisible weight that’d kept Taemin’s shoulders slumped seems to be gone, and when he drops the pancake on the cutting board to slice it up for easy eating, his eyes instantly light.

“That smells amazing. How long till I can eat it?”

“Just another minute.” Jinki grabs a plate from the cabinet, then arranges the pieces of pancake neatly besides the small cup of dipping sauce he’d mixed as Taemin frowns.

“You don’t need to do that fancy presentation stuff when it’s just me you’re cooking for.”

“It’s habit. And I only want to serve things that look good.”

“I guess that’s why you’re a professional, then.” Taemin smirks at him, not breaking eye contact until Jinki sets the plate in front of him and he grabs his first piece. His eyes close then, in food-brought bliss, and he bounces in his chair. “Fuck, this is good,” he says, mouth still full. He blinks up at Jinki as he grabs another. “You don’t mind me cursing, do you? I just assume it’s fine, since my teammates do it a lot and I’m around them so much...”

Jinki laughs. “I don’t mind. We’re practically the same age, right?”

“I’d think so. When were you born?”

“Eighty-nine.”

“Oh, four years older than me. I’m ninety-three.” He looks up through his lashes as he dips another piece of pajeon. “Can I call you hyung, then?”

Jinki’s voice hitches at the wide smile Taemin sends him. “Yeah, I’m alright with that.”

Taemin beams and takes another bite. The food disappears quickly, as they talk about random things -- the weather and traffic in LA, the annoyance of jetlag, their struggles with adapting to constant presence of English outside of the team house -- and Taemin sits back with a long sigh after finishing the last piece.

“This really makes me regret missing dinner. I can only imagine how good your barbeque is...”

“You’ll get to have it eventually.”

“Soon, maybe?” Taemin says, hopeful.

“We’ll see. I’ll have to ask the manager if he’s alright with me spending so much on meat again.”

Jinki takes the now-empty plate and gathers the rest of the dirty dishes to bring them to the sink. When he turns on the faucet, Taemin circles around the counter to join him and snatches the pan out of his hand.

“Let me help. It’s only fair, since you did all the cooking.”

As Jinki starts on the cutting board and plate, Taemin picks up the second sponge from the rim of the sink to begin washing his stolen pan. Though the kitchen is fairly large, the sink is small.  Their elbows bump into each other as they work, making Jinki’s skin prickle. The unexpected proximity is making him notice again that Taemin’s an attractive man.

He clears his throat. “So, what made you decide to do play Overwatch professionally?”

Taemin shrugs. “I’ve just always been good at it. I’ve been pro since I was sixteen, though I played a different game back then.”

“Wow -- I had no idea anyone started that young.”

“A lot of us do. Most of my teammates have been in the sport for years.”

Jinki thinks back to Kibum’s comment earlier that day. “Have you been with them long?”

“Most of the team is new to me, but I’ve been with Kibum and Minho for years. It’s nice, because we know how we all play, so we work together well -- but we can see each other’s weaknesses, too. I think they’re frustrated lately because they know exactly how much I’m lacking compared to my usual standard. It makes the losses harder, knowing I’m responsible for them and everyone knows it.”

“I don’t know much about Overwatch, but it doesn’t seem fair to blame yourself for the loss. It’s a six person game, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re only responsible for one-sixth of a loss.” Jinki flings soap from his hand to tap his forehead. “Basic math.”

Laughing, Taemin shakes his head. He finishes cleaning his pan and sets it on the dish rack. After wiping his hands dry on his pants, he pats Jinki on the back. “That’s not how it works at all, but thanks.”

“Of course. I’m here for stomach _and_ moral support.”

Taemin walks backwards, an amused smile on his lips as he exits the kitchen. “Get some sleep, hyung. I want to make sure you can get up and make us another big meal.”

“You’ll be getting it no matter what, don’t worry.”

He receives a cheeky two-fingered salute before Taemin disappears up the dark staircase.

 

* * *

 

When the team wins their first game since Jinki’s arrival, he goes all-out. He texts the manager for permission to splurge the moment he sees the score -- a tight 3-2 that was a hard-won reverse sweep -- and hurries down to the local grocer to purchase every cut of fresh meat he can think of.

By the team is back home, riding high on their victory, he has the grill started and plates of meat prepared for cooking. The weather outside is pleasant, and the team piles onto the few pieces of patio furniture they have to eat the side dishes Jinki had already set out as they wait for the meat to cook. Coach Sooman brings out what must be a half-crate of soju bottles, which are quickly opened and poured. The team’s appetite is voracious, forcing him to bounce back between the their table and grill to keep up as they consume everything he cooks the moment he sets it down, but he doesn’t mind.

All of the players are happier than he’s ever seen them. Taemin’s hands move rapidly as he recounts one of his plays to the group, broad smile infectious, and Kibum and Minho join in his story-telling to emphasize how surprised they had been when Taemin won them the fight.

The hours pass quickly until the last of the food disappears and the players begin to filter out one-by-one back to their rooms. The patio and living room are entirely empty by the time he’s done cleaning up, and for once, he falls asleep minutes after collapsing into his bed -- only to be woken quickly after by knocking on the front door.

With a long sigh, he shuffles out of bed and exits his room, squinting down the hall towards the front door of the team house. He expects it to be shut -- more than a few players on the team had locked themselves out of the house after late-night trips -- but the door is open, and Taemin is in front of it, passing money to a man in a blue uniform shirt. Taemin finishes the transaction in hushed tones before taking a box from him, then shuts the door.

When he turns around, he startles, nearly dropping the box in his hands.

Jinki meets him halfway down the hall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to start startle you.”

“I should be sorry for waking you.” He sighs. “I told them not to knock when I made my order, but I guessed they missed those instructions.”

“It’s fine, really.” Jinki rubs at his eyes, then looks at the box in Taemin’s hands with disbelief. “You ordered pizza? After midnight?”

Taemin pouts. “I had a craving...”

“I still can’t believe you’d cheat on me like this after I made such a good meal.”

Taemin laughs. “If you join in, it’s not cheating, right? I’ll split this with you.”

“My stomach’s going to regret it, but alright.”

Taemin carries the box into the living room, not bothering to pick up plates on the way, and sets it on the small coffee table. Soju bottles from earlier are still scattered across the surface, and Taemin reaches for an unopened one to set in front of Jinki.

“You want to drink? I guess you didn’t get to much earlier, since you were cooking.”

Jinki twists the bottle open, then gestures for Taemin to pick up a glass. “Grab yourself one. I imagine you wouldn’t have offered unless you wanted to drink, too.”

Taemin raises a brow, then hold out an empty glass with both hands. “Caught me.”

After Jinki finishes pouring him a drink, Taemin does the same for him. They both knock back their first glass before opening the box, then pour each other another to have with it. The pizza is greasy, but good -- Jinki eats nearly half, and Taemin finishes off the rest -- and pairs well with the soju they down between each slice.

Taemin’s cheeks gain a drunken flush midway through his third glass. He reaches over Jinki for the remote, placing one hand on his knee for balance, then slumps back into the couch and flips on the television.

“What do you wanna watch?”

Jinki shrugs. “Whatever’s fine. We only really have a few channels to pick from, anyway.”

Taemin bounces between the three Korean channels they get before stopping at a drama. “This is that shitty drama you were watching the other night, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s watch it.”

Jinki side-eyes him. “Why do you want to watch it if it’s bad?”

“To laugh at it, obviously.”

He collapses back onto the couch, bumping into Jinki’s shoulder on the way. The room spins, just enough to make him secure about his decision to stay put, even if he should be going to bed at this hour.

The TV becomes a bleary fixture as they near the end of the bottle. Taemin empties the last of it into Jinki’s cup. The now-empty bottle of soju clinks against the edge of the table as he drunkenly tries to place it back, until Jinki grabs and does it for him.

“Thanks, hyung.” Taemin slumps back against him, with his head on Jinki’s arm, and a hand on his knee, and exhales softly.

Jinki bites his lip, trying to ignore the warmth that buzzes across his skin at each point of contact. Taemin’s palm on him is firm, and absently shifting upwards, but that doesn’t mean anything. There’s no way Taemin would be making a move on him. He’s just drunk.

Taemin sighs and adjusts again, settling further onto him, until his head is resting entirely in Jinki’s lap. Jinki holds his breath. If Taemin stays still, this should be fine, as long as he focuses on the television and keeps his thoughts as far away from Taemin’s lips as he can -- but Taemin doesn’t.

His hand moves higher. His cheek turns, and his weight adjusts, putting a pressure on his groin that makes heat prickle down his body. The sweatpants he wears hide nothing when he throbs.

Taemin stirs, turning to look up at him. “Are you...?”

“Sorry,” he interupts, throat tight. “It’s not on purpose.”

Taemin stares. The light from the television flickers behind him, leaving a shadow of his hand as he reaches up towards the bulge in Jinki’s sweatpants.  When the screen glows white for a commercial, Jinki can tell that his cheeks are flushed bright red.

“It’s alright,” Taemin says. “I don’t mind it.”

Jinki says nothing.

“...I’ve kind of wondered what another guy would feel like.”

  
He looks down, pulse racing. This is a bad idea. A _terrible_ idea, considering his relation with the team is tied to his employment. But his body is already heating, from the liquor and the image of having a hand so close to his dick for the first time in months.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Taemin confirms, voice low. “In my hand, or you know --” He licks his lips and looks away. “Mouth.”

He swallows. Everything Taemin says has an edge of innocence to it -- as if he’s never done this before -- but Jinki can't shake the feeling that his approach was too deliberate for that to be true.

He’s not sure he cares either way.

Slipping a thumb into his waistband, he tugs it down an inch. “If you really want to try, then...that’s alright.”

Taemin nods to him, almost shy, but the hand that moves to him isn’t. He helps Jinki pull down his sweats, and a second later, his mouth is open and pressed to the opening of his boxers. Jinki twitches at the sudden sensation, biting his lip, and clenches the leather of the couch when Taemin begins massaging him to full hardness.

The tease is unbearable. He watches breathlessly as Taemin runs his lips along him, covering every inch of him through the fabric until a wet stain pools from the head of his cock. He keeps his lip pulled between his teeth, trying not to make a sound, but a hiss escapes him when Taemin reaches into the slit of his boxers and pulls him out.

The risk of the situation is obvious -- he’s in the living room of his team’s house, having his dick handled by one of their star players, that may or may not have ever slept with a man in his life -- but he’s too far along to want to stop.

Taemin looks up at him briefly, as if making sure he has Jinki’s attention, then licks quickly across the base of his shaft. When Jinki shivers, he repeats the motion, holding Jinki steady in his palm as he moves up with tongue. The thick taste of precome when he reaches the top makes his eyes scrunch shut, but his mouth continues on, pressing and circling around the head of his cock until Jinki is forced to stifle a moan into the back of his hand.

Taemin’s eyes flutter up to him at the noise. “Does that feel good, hyung? Should I keep going?”

“Please.”

When he places a hand in Taemin’s hair as encouragement, Taemin shudders under his palm and leans forward, lips parted, and slips his mouth over the tip of Jinki’s cock. Without any further teasing, he takes more of it, sliding down easily from the spit he’d left behind.

Jinki gasps - he hadn’t expected so much, so soon - and he barely has time to wonder at how naturally Taemin finds a rhythm with his hand and mouth. Heat rolls under his skin as he tightens a hand in Taemin’s hair, only to release it when that draws out a loud but muffled moan around his cock.

There’s no teeth, and no fumbling. Taemin strokes the half of him he can’t fit in and keeps his lips tight around the rest, moving faster until Jinki is gripping the side of the couch for some semblance of control. The brief glimpses he gets of Taemin’s expression through his bangs is pure concentration, and something about _that_ makes the pleasure already building under his skin quicken its pace.

He grips the couch again. “If you keep going, I’m gonna come.”

The warning doesn’t make Taemin pull off. His tongue flattens out, no longer taking time to lave over his cock when he reaches the head, as his fist tightens and twists to match the faster pace of his mouth.

Jinki holds his breath and covers his mouth, too afraid to make a noise. His cock stiffens as Taemin’s head continues to bob in his lap, and after two more tugs, his eyes squeeze shut as he comes into his mouth.

Taemin pulls away from him once he’s done, sitting up on his elbows and swallowing thickly. He’s panting, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide when he looks up. His lips are spit-slick and red -- and on impulse, Jinki tugs him upright into a kiss. When their lips meet, Taemin's brows shoot up with surprise, but his confusion vanishes when Jinki cups his cock through his jeans.

“Shit.”

The curse is hissed through his teeth as he pushes into Jinki’s hand. He’s hard, all-too-easy to feel through the denim, and wastes no time in helping Jinki open them when he feels him fumbling at the button.

Jinki uses his other hand to pull him closer, until Taemin is forced to straddle him and he’s sinking back into the corner of the couch. The heat and weight of Taemin over him makes it hard to breathe, but it’s more than worth it. His cock is heavy and warm against his palm when he reaches up to grope him through his boxers, and warmer still when he reaches through the slit to hold him without impediment.

Taemin jolts when Jinki presses their lips together again, hips jerking down, but he doesn’t break away -- he crawls further into Jinki’s lap, deepening the kiss as he moves, until they’re chest-to-chest and he can feel the slick precome from Taemin’s cock begin to bleed through his shirt.

One of Taemin’s hands threads fingers into Jinki’s hair as he keeps the other braced against the couch for balance. The faster Jinki goes, the harder he trembles, until their haphazard kissing turns into nothing more than panting against Jinki’s chin. Jinki runs his free hand down over his back, then up under his shirt, enjoying the familiar smoothness of taught muscle under his palm before shifting his hand to squeeze Taemin’s ass.  

  
Another curse is muffled into his neck. Taemin hardens in his hand when his fingers dig in, body going stiff, and exhales softly. He twitches with each stroke, come spilling from him in short bursts that coats Jinki’s fingers and shirt.

The silence that follows makes Jinki suddenly aware of the television still playing in the background. He wipes his hand on his shirt, and Taemin backs away, breathing still shallow and fast.

Their eyes meet briefly. Taemin’s bangs are stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat from where he’d buried his head in Jinki’s neck. His lips pull in an uncertain smile, though his gaze is pointedly fixed away as he tucks himself back into his underwear.

“Sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s fine.”

When Jinki says nothing more, Taemin moves back, balancing carefully until he’s back on his feet. His eyes flick down quickly when Jinki tugs up his sweats, then up to his face.

“We should probably go to bed, huh? We both drank too much.”

Jinki tries to read Taemin’s expression in the dark, but comes away with no hint at his feelings, other than nervousness -- which he feels plenty of too, now that he’s more sober. He can only hope that Taemin’s skittishness won’t lead to something that would get him fired, kicked out, and subsequently deported.

He holds his shirt as he stands, careful to keep it away from any of the surrounding furniture.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah.” Taemin smiles tightly. “Sure thing.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind words and likes/reblogs/comments so far. <3 I’ve queued the rest of the parts to post around 7PM CST every other day to make sure I don’t forget, since the overwatch world cup is this weekend and I’m gonna be watching that.
> 
> This is totally unasked for information that I realized I forgot to post in the last part, but...the big play Taemin is talking about in the third scene is basically [Carpe’s ‘winnable’ moment ](https://clips.twitch.tv/TawdryArtsyTardigradeKreygasm) which was some ridiculous widow play and one of the most iconic moments of season 1.
> 
> And another brief note: I used Joy’s stage name here instead of her real name (like I did for everyone else) because I don’t want her to get confused with SNSD’s Sooyoung.

Breakfast, for a team of professional gamers, always starts closer to noon than early morning. The few early-birds on the team begin waking at eight, while the rest lumber downstairs sometime after ten, when the scent of whatever meal Jinki is cooking begins to carry upstairs and fill the team house.

This breakfast is no different. He makes omelettes to order for each team member, putting in whatever vegetables and other additions they like. It keeps him busy as the team slowly builds to its full number in the living room, and keeps his mind off of what had happened there last night.

 _He’d_ enjoyed it, for certain -- but that didn’t make it a good idea. The odds of Taemin having a morning-after panic are probably high. They’d been drunk, and he’d only met Taemin a week ago. He has no idea how comfortable Taemin is fucking another man. Though it’d been obvious he was enjoying it, in the moment -- that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be happy about it the day after.

When Taemin finally does come downstairs -- and he knows, because the rest of the team is already down when he hears a creak of the stairs -- he forces himself not to show his anxiety on his face. He puts on the smile he’d perfected when bussing tables and greets Taemin when he enters the kitchen.

“Morning, Taemin.”

Taemin eyes him -- shifting quickly between guilt and wariness -- before returning it with a small smile.

“...Hey.”

“You want an omelette?”

Taemin scratches his elbow and blinks at him. “Uh, sure.”

“What do you want on it?”

“Mushrooms and onions, I guess?”

“Coming right up.”

Jinki cracks and whisks another pair of eggs as Taemin takes a seat on the other side of the kitchen counter, between Kibum and Minho. Kibum looks up from his phone when Taemin squeezes in next to him, eyes narrowed.

“You look hungover.”

Taemin’s laugh is thin. “I might’ve celebrated a bit too much.”

“Looks like it.” He purses his lips critically. “Have you even had any water?”

“Not yet. I just woke up.”

Kibum scoffs. “Figures.”

Jinki watches from the corner of his eyes as Taemin gives an dismissive huff and slumps over onto his arms, hiding his face from view. Kibum makes eye contact with him, just to shake his head in disapproval, and Jinki feels a pang of pity. For all he knows, Taemin’s avoiding the kitchen because of him.

Quickly dumping his whisked eggs into the pan, he grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water, then sets it on the counter in front of Taemin.

“Here.” He scoots the cool glass against Taemin’s forearm, making him look up. “Kibum’s right, you know. You’re probably dehydrated.”

Taemin stares at him, clearly caught off guard, and sits up slowly. When he reaches for the drink, his fingers wrap gingerly around the cup. “Thanks, hyung.”

Jinki smiles. Taemin addressing him normally seems like a good sign, at least for his employment. He turns back to his pan on the stove. He’d kept it hot, so the eggs are already firming, and it only takes another minute for the omelette to be ready to serve. He puts it on the last empty plate and sets it on front of Taemin, who immediately perks up at the sight of food.

“Look good?” He asks, eager for feedback.

With a piece already stuffed in his mouth, Taemin can only nod and hum in affirmation.

He doesn't get another chance to try and pick at Taemin’s thoughts to see where they stand. The moment he finishes his meal, Coach Sooman enters the room to herd them into the practice room for their first scrimmage match of the day. The team is locked in there the rest of the afternoon, giving Jinki a few hours of silence to mull over the previous night while he prepares dinner.

The kimchi chigae is ready just as the team returns. He sets the giant pot of stew at the center of the table, then goes back to grab the side dishes and empty bowls they’ll need to serve themselves. The players have already seated when he returns, and each of them begins spooning stew into their bowl the moment they receive it, eager and hungry from a long day of practice.

He’d sampled enough while cooking to not have an appetite, so he spends dinner in the kitchen, cleaning up the cutting boards and pans he hadn’t yet gotten to. The team’s chatter about their games is near impossible for him to follow, with how little he still knows, but serves as a relaxing white noise while he soaps up the dishes and wipes down the countertops. When a sudden peal of laughter from Kibum fills  the room, he finds himself looking up -- only to meet Taemin’s gaze over the half-counter that divides the kitchen from the dining room.

His breath hitches for the half-second he considers his reaction. He could look away, treat it as the coincidence it might be -- but doesn’t want to.

Taemin’s eyes widen briefly before falling back to his food. But they don’t stay away. Their eyes meet whenever he looks up from his work, and he can still feel the occasional glance fall on him even when he pulls out a pad of paper to write the grocery list for tomorrow.

It’s different than this morning. Every time Taemin had looked at him then, he’d seemed wary, while now, he seems only curious.

The team spreads out around the house when the meal is done, some heading outside to enjoy the evening on the patio, while others linger in the living room to watch television or return to their room for a bit of alone time. Though he tries to busy himself with meal planning for the next week out, time still passes too slowly for his liking. He knows if Taemin is going to talk him, it’ll only be after the rest of the team has gone to bed.

Finally, sometime after ten, players begin filing upstairs one-at-a-time until he and Taemin are the last ones left downstairs. Unsure what to do, he stays in his seat at the half-counter of the kitchen with his laptop. Taemin is still in the living room behind him, he thinks -- he was there the last time he looked over his shoulder -- and his forearm prickles with goosebumps when he hears the leather of the couch shift.

Taemin’s socks make his steps across the hardwood floor quiet, but with all of Jinki’s attention on his movement to the kitchen, he can hear them perfectly. When he crosses into Jinki’s vision, he sends him a small hesitant smile, then continues on to the fridge.

Jinki stares at his back, unsure how to restart the easy conversations they’d fallen into before -- but finds that he doesn’t need to.

Taemin opens both doors of the fridge, letting the white light from inside spill out into the room.

“Do you want to drink a bit?” He asks, back still to Jinki. “There’s some soju left in here.”

Jinki swallows. He doesn’t want to -- not after having so much last night -- but he knows Taemin’s question isn’t really about drinking. It’s about his willingness to put himself in the same situation as last night -- the one that had lead to Taemin’s mouth on his dick, and the handjob he’d given in return -- and to see if he wanted more.

Though Taemin can’t see him, he nods. “Sounds fun. I could go for a glass or two.”

He closes his laptop. Taemin turns around, bottle and two glasses in hand, and leads them into the living room. Jinki opens and pours the first for him, and Taemin does the same for him, just like last night -- only this time, when Taemin takes the bottle, his fingers brush over Jinki’s before he pulls it away.

They clink their glasses together quickly before throwing back the drink. When Jinki squints and shakes his head at the taste that’d caught on his tongue, Taemin laughs.

“You still want another?”

Jinki nods. They pour each other a second glass. Taemin hums as he sips his soju. “Feels odd drinking without any food.”

“You want me to make something?”

“Nah. You’ve had a busy day. You deserve to relax.”

He pats Jinki’s knee, and though his hand lingers, it vanishes before Jinki can react.

Jinki finishes another glass, impatient. He’s not used to this kind of cagey flirting. Outside of Changsun, all his experience is from the gay bars in Jongno, where everyone was clear about what they wanted from the start.

If he were certain it wouldn’t scare Taemin off, he’d make a move himself.

The bottle is half-empty when Taemin collapses over Jinki’s lap with laughter, arm falling to the opposite of his hip.

It’s an obvious excuse for contact, and Jinki takes full advantage of it. He rests his palm on Taemin’s back and pulls him closer, until Taemin’s head is resting fully against his chest.

Taemin looks up at him and wets his lips. The want in his eyes is obvious, even behind the filter of his lashes -- he’s trying to goad Jinki into kissing him -- but Jinki’s sober enough to think better of doing that in the living room a second time.

He lowers his hand on Taemin’s back and until his fingertips can skim past the hem of his shirt to bare skin. “If this is going to go like last night, we should get out of the living room.”

Taemin’s eyes glimmer from the light of the television as he blinks up at Jinki, taking a moment to process the words. “...Your room is a single, isn’t it?”

“It is, yeah. That should work.”

Taemin pulls out of his arms and stands. He holds out a hand to help Jinki up from the couch. and when Jinki takes it, his skin is tingles with the contact. Neither of them say a word in the short walk to Jinki’s single room. Taemin enters first, and Jinki follows after him.

He closes the door behind him carefully, then tests the lock, only to tense when he feels heat on the back of his neck. Taemin’s lips hover just close enough to make the small hairs on his nape tingle.

Taemin’s hand crawls up under his shirt as he leans further in, now letting his lips press fully to his skin.

Jinki shivers when it turns into a kiss. He braces himself against the frame of the door and pushes backwards, allowing his ass to give friction to the slight bulge he can feel through Taemin’s sweats.

“Shit--” Taemin curses, obviously caught off guard. His nails scrape Jinki’s ribs in his rush to move hands to his hips. He grips them tightly, thrusting forward, and a spark of heat races up Jinki’s spine at the friction.

When Taemin stops for a moment to tug at his shirt, he moves away from the wall and turns, yanking it off quickly before pressing his bare chest against Taemin. Cupping Taemin’s face between his hands, he guides Taemin into a kiss that catches him off guard. His lips part when he startles, allowing Jinki to lick inside his mouth and draw a full-body shudder that forces Taemin to clutch him for balance.

He repeats the motion, drawing another shiver before Taemin gathers himself enough to kiss back. The taste of soju fills his mouth again, almost as if he were downing another glass, and a surge of recklessness swells in him.

Grinning, he pulls away suddenly, leaving Taemin confused and panting before he falls to his knees.

Taemin stumbles back -- clearly, he hadn’t expected Jinki to drop to his knees -- but Jinki grabs him by the hips before he moves too far away.

The outline of his cock is obvious through his sweats. Jinki noses it slowly before looking up to enjoy the wide-eyed look Taemin is giving him from above. The pulse of it is steady against his chin, and seems to quicken as he reaches up to pull at the elastic of Taemin’s sweats.

A frustrated hiss of _hyung_ leaves Taemin’s lips when he skips over tugging down his boxers to mouth at him through the fabric instead. He traces the shaft with his lips, then suckles at the head, wetting the cotton with spit until he can taste Taemin through it.

“Hyung,” Taemin pleads again, this time emphasizing his need with a hand on the back of Jinki’s head. “Stop teasing.”

Jinki shakes his head and hums, but keeps his mouth close enough for the motion to shift his lips over Taemin’s cock. It earns him a short huff of protest, which satisfies Jinki enough that he decides to get on with it.

He hooks his fingers in the top of Taemin’s boxers and yanks them down. When he glances up, Taemin’s teeth are buried in his bottom lip, and he makes sure their gazes are locked when he takes him in hand and skates his lips around the base. Keeping it firm in his hand, he trails along the side of the shaft with his tongue, until he reaches the tip and closes his lips fully around the head.

Taemin’s eyes are on him, dark and wanting, as his mouth moves further down. He gets half of Taemin in before he tightens his mouth and sucks, drawing a startled groan that deepens when he starts to stroke him from the base. Pulling off one last time, Jinki teases at the ridge of his cock head with a slow lick, then takes him back between his lips to start the rhythm Taemin’s begging for with tugs at his hair.

Taemin shivers when he takes him deeper, fingers twisting in his hair. “You’re good at this.”

Jinki hums around him in acknowledgement, producing another curse.

It feels like ages since he’s done this. Every sensation is intoxicating: the hold in his hair, the irregular twitch against his tongue, and the increasingly slick push of his cock past his lips. His own cock is begging for attention, but he ignores it in favor of keeping both hands on Taemin, one to stroke him and the other on his ass to squeeze in encouragement whenever his hips thrust forward of his own accord.  

He can feel when Taemin is going to come, from the way he stiffens and swells, and his own pulse quickens in anticipation. Blood pounds in his ears as he breathes through his nose and takes him down, further and further until there’s only an inch left for him to jerk around the base.

Taemin jolts and hunches over him, gripping his head with both hands. Jinki swallows slowly as Taemin comes, taking each spurt down his throat until his cock starts to soften in his mouth.

He pulls off and wipes off his mouth against Taemin’s leg, then clears his throat. “You enjoy that?”

Taemin gives his hair a playful tug, forcing their eyes to meet. “I mean, I came. What do you think?”

Jinki grins and stands, tugging Taemin’s pants up with him. Like this, they’re nearly the same height, and it’s easy to pull Taemin in by the hips to grind against him.

“You up for returning the favor?”

Taemin nods, eager. He fits his hand over Jinki’s cock and squeezes as he runs lips over his jawline. “Let’s get on the bed, at least. My legs are a bit shaky.”

Jinki steps back, allowing Taemin to help him out of his clothes on their way to the bed. His pants and boxers make a scattered trail from the door to the mattress, where he falls onto his back at Taemin’s urging. Taemin is over him in an instant, kissing him firmly, but not for long -- just after giving a hint of tongue, he leaves for Jinki’s neck, then his collar, alternating between nips and kisses that make him hiss through his teeth.

By the time Taemin is at his chest, Jinki loses his patience and wraps a hand around his own cock to stroke himself for relief. He’s worked up enough from sucking Taemin off that he doesn’t want to wait.

Noticing his movement, Taemin pulls back from his chest, lips wet. “Not moving fast enough for you?”

“You were taking forever.” Jinki says through his teeth, but slows his hand. He expects Taemin to use that as a chance to take over, but he only watches, eyes fixed on Jinki’s cock as his foreskin rolls down from the head and pushes up on the upstroke. The shadow in his eyes is hungry, and Jinki shivers at the ripple of heat it produces across his skin.

He squeezes himself tighter to push another bead of precome from his slit. “You want to watch me jerk myself off?”

Taemin swallows. “Shit, yeah.”

Jinki licks his lips and spreads his legs wider. On his single bed, it’s a hard fit, but Taemin pulls one of his legs and drapes it over his own to make room. Taemin has a full view of all of him, practically, and like this, he can feel every time Jinki jerks up into his own hand.

For the sake of the view, he starts slow, teasing himself until even Taemin is urging him to go faster with murmurs against his ear. He speeds his hand as Taemin directs him, pleasure building fast. Each time he twitches, Taemin’s fingers dig harder into his thigh, leaving marks on his skin that make him tighten his fist each time he glances down to see them.

When he hisses that he’s close, Taemin turns his head to kiss him. It’s the messiest of the few they’ve shared, all tongue and teeth as Jinki pants helplessly against Taemin’s lips, but the roughness of it is enough to bring him over the edge quick.

The instant his muscles tighten, Taemin pulls back to watch him come. Jinki turns his head towards where Taemin’s hand had stayed on his cheek and pulls two fingers into his mouth to muffle his moan as he strokes himself desperately, hips bucking up as he comes in messy streaks over his own stomach and chest.

He gives Taemin’s fingertips one last suck before they’re pulled fully from his mouth, then goes slack against the mattress. Taemin looks at his spit-slicked fingers, mystified, before wiping them on a clean part of Jinki’s chest.

“You’re pretty wild, huh?”

Jinki chuckles, heart still pounding with adrenaline. “I like to think I know how to have fun.”

Taemin smiles slowly. “I can’t say I mind. It is a pretty good way to spend the night.”

Jinki nods in agreement and exhales. His mind is blessedly clear for the first time in ages. Even without anything to distract him, his thoughts are on nothing but the soft sheets under him and the fading bliss of his orgasm.

After a minute of silence passes, he realizes Taemin has made no move to relax on the bed with him. He slips open a single eye to observe him, noting the elbow he has propped himself up on to keep from lying flat and the uncertain glance he sends back.

He should feel awkward himself, considering he’s entirely naked, while Taemin hadn’t taken off a thing -- but he doesn’t have it in him to be self-conscious about nudity around someone he’d just blown.

Another few minutes without conversation pass before Taemin tries to extricate himself from the bed. “I guess I’ll let you get cleaned up?”

Jinki shrugs. His legs feel like jelly, and he has no intention of getting up. “Would you mind throwing me my shirt on your way out?”

“Sure.” Taemin swipes it up from the floor and tosses it at him. He hesitates for a moment with his hand on the door knob. “You, uh...need anything else before I go upstairs?”

Jinki shakes his head and smiles, still too content to be bothered by the awkwardness. “Nah, I’m good. You sleep well.” He gives a broader grin. “Look forward to a good breakfast.”

Taemin laughs, a bit of tension leaving him before he opens the door to leave. “Good night, hyung.”

* * *

"Saviors, approaching from the front. The clock is ticking, twenty seconds left, so this is their final push. ACE is in the backline, gets a kill -- and a second one -- and a _third! --”_ ” The casters voice picks up. Jinki looks up from the cabbage and cutting board under his knife to lean towards his propped-up phone screen. The fights still go too fast for him to follow well, but he knows enough to recognize that Taemin's name lighting up the killfeed on the side. "We're seeing the old ACE now, it looks like!"

"Sure looks like it, Sorim. No one can say he's in a slump anymore."

“And with that, Saviors take the map and the win against their newfound rivals, the Monsters."

The caster laughs as the screen fades to black, leaving only the words SAVIORS WIN plastered across the screen before it cuts to the team standing from their chairs with a cheer. Jinki returns to his prepwork with a broad grin. He’d never thought he’d get so invested in the games, but it’s hard not to, when he cooks for the team daily.

By the time the front door opens, he’s finished the kimchi paste and mixed it all into a huge container to ferment in the fridge. When he leaves the kitchen to congratulate them on the victory, half the team is missing, and his excitement for their win deflates when he realizes that Taemin isn’t going to walk through the door. Coach Sooman tells him he has the night off to himself. A new wave of signed players had come through the previous week, and most of the Saviors had decided to meet up with former teammates and show them around LA instead of coming straight home to celebrate.

Without a meal to make, Jinki suddenly has hours of unexpected free time. He starts off by tackling the hamper of dirty clothes he’d been ignoring for days. His phone buzzes in his pocket as he drags the clothes to the washer, and he sets the hamper down to check it when he reaches the laundry room.

acex4: hey, coach dropped me at the corner store so i could pick up some victory snacks

acex4: i still haven’t tried that many american chips

acex4: do you want anything?

Jinki stares blankly at the messages. From the the name, he can tell it’s Taemin messaging him, though he doesn’t remember giving him his number.

chewonew: is this taemin?

acex4: yeah

acex4: i got your number from coach’s phone in the car

chewonew: oh, i figured

acex4: so is there anything you want?

chewonew: if you’re already there, i’d like some gum i guess

chewonew: and some food prep gloves if they have them

chewonew: i’ll be prepping some really spicy peppers tomorrow

chewonew: i’ll pay you back all of it

acex4: don’t worry about that, its my treat ^^

chewonew: thanks

Jinki goes back to stuffing his dirty laundry in the wash when his phone chirps again. He only catches a glimpse of the message before the screen fades to black, but the word _condoms_ is enough to make his eyes widen.

He tosses the last of his clothes in the washer and hurries to pick up his phone. After checking behind him to make sure the few team members at home are still in the living room, he opens it to read the full text.

acex4: should i get condoms?

Jinki swallows, caught off guard. He’d figured Taemin would want to continue fooling around, even though the aftermath had been a bit awkward last time -- but this is the closest they’ve come to _planning_ it. And if Taemin wants to try something new, Jinki’s not going to turn that down.

chewonew: if you want to grab some, sure

chewonew: i can pick some up tomorrow morning when I go to the grocery if you’d rather me get them

acex4: nah

acex4: i want them for tonight

acex4: do you have a brand you like?

Jinki’s ears burn at the bluntness. He hopes that none of Taemin’s teammates had come with him to the store.

chewonew: i don’t really have one, i guess

chewonew: but if they’re for me, i prefer the large ones or whatever they call them here

acex4: lol

acex4: trying to impress me hyung?

chewonew: you should know i’m not lying, you’ve felt it

chewonew: regular ones just don’t fit right

chewonew: if you don’t believe me, just get both sizes

acex4: probably good to do that anyways, yeah?

acex4: we haven’t talked about who’s fucking who yet

chewonew: guess not

chewonew: but for the record, i don’t care either way

acex4: huh, really?

acex4: you seemed to know exactly what you wanted the other night

acex4: i figured you’d have a preference

chewonew: not really

acex4: lol k

acex4: we’ll leave it a surprise then

Jinki inhales sharply when he relocks his phone. Whatever he’d expected the strange thing he and Taemin had started to lead towards, it hadn’t been this -- but having a regular hookup isn’t something he wants to turn down. Anything that’ll help him disconnect sex from the years he’d spent having it with Changsun alone could only be good for him.

After returning the now-empty hamper to his room, he gives himself a moment to calm down, then joins Sooyung and Kibum in the living room to distract himself with TV for the rest of the evening. The first show they’d put on is barely over before he hears the front door open, then get kicked shut.

Taemin’s voice echos from the foyer. “Hey, Jinki-hyung, I’ll leave the chips you wanted in your room.”

Jinki shouts back a _thanks_ without looking away from the television. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Taemin walks past the living room with his bag in hand and enters his room.

No one else has the slightest clue Taemin is talking about anything but chips, but the boldness of him announcing it to the room still makes the back of his neck heat. After Taemin leaves the bag in his room, he disappears upstairs, leaving Jinki to watch TV for another few hours until his clothes finish.

When he finally gets to bring his dried clothes back to his room, he can’t resist searching for the bag Taemin had left behind. He checks the drawers, which are still filled only with Jinki’s chargers, then under the bed, and easily spots the red-and-white of the cornerstore bag beside his suitcase. He glances to make sure he’d shut the door behind him, then pulls it out to look inside.

A packet of gum and the gloves he’d asked for sit on top. Underneath them, wrapped up in the lengthy receipt, are two boxes of condoms -- one normal-sized, the other large -- and a bottle of lube.

He huffs, amused, and stuffs them back under his bed for hiding. He can only imagine the look on the cashier’s face when Taemin came to the counter with gloves, condoms, and a bottle of lube.

After folding and putting away his clothes, he gets comfortable on his bed, figuring Taemin will come to him when he’s ready. A few hour pass with nothing but the muffled conversations from the rest of the house as he plays on his phone and catches up on the food blogs he’d been too busy to read since he arrived in LA.

His door opens at midnight. There’s no knock, and no voice asking for entry -- just the sound of the doorknob turning, and the sight of Taemin’s head peeking through the crack as he opens it slowly.

Jinki sits up, anticipation already tight under his skin. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Taemin smiles back at him, a touch nervous. “Everyone else is upstairs already. Plan on being awake for a while more?”

“Obviously. I was waiting for you to show up.”

Taemin’s eyes light with interest. He steps inside and closes the door quietly behind him. Jinki watches every motion intently, attention fixed on the slight bulge he can make out through Taemin’s sweats and the broadness of his shoulders. The sight of him crossing the room shouldn’t be enough to make his pulse race, but it _is_ \-- he’s all too aware of the condoms still under his bed. The specifics of how they’ll use them are still up in the air, but that hadn’t stopped him from fantasizing in the hours he’d spent waiting.

The images he’d come up with replay vividly in his head, and once Taemin is in reach, Jinki is too eager to wait. He grabs his hand and tugs, bringing Taemin onto the mattress with him.

Their lips meet before Taemin can find his balance, making for a short and messy kiss that leaves Jinki’s pulse thrumming with the need for more. He helps Taemin swing a leg over his hips, then grabs him by the back of his neck to pull him down into a proper kiss.

Taemin curses, eyes fluttering shut, and slips a hand into Jinki’s hair to press their lips together harder. He’s all want, hips already trying to move down against Jinki’s for friction, but Jinki shifts to keep him from gaining more.

Other than the purchase of condoms, there’d been no preamble, and he wants to take his time to figure out what makes Taemin tick. Their lips slide together as his hand runs over Taemin’s back, and he finally draws a moan out of him by pressing a tongue to the corner of his mouth. It takes only another repeat of the motion to make Taemin’s lips fall open, eager and willing, as his hips stutter from the slow rhythm they’d built.

He buries his fingers in Taemin’s hair and licks into his mouth.

Instead of soju, he tastes mint. He presses his tongue deeper for more. He arches up, now seeking his own friction, and tugs on to his scalp until his head is forced back, exposing his neck for Jinki to move down to with a series of kisses and nips.

Taemin jolts in surprise. His own grip on Jinki’s hair vanishes, and he moves his hands lower, bracing them on Jinki’s shoulders to support himself as his hips roll with need. Jinki slides a hand over Taemin’s leg, squeezing as he moves up to feel the flex of his thighs, and only stops once he can grope the outline of his cock through his sweats.

The fullness and heat of it under his hands is enough to make him forget about drawing things out. He pulls back from Taemin’s neck, glancing at the reddened mark he’d left before meeting his eyes, and cups him tighter.

“You decided how you want to fuck yet?”

Taemin shakes his head, eyes half-lidded as he falters out an answer. “I figured I’d leave it up to you.”

Jinki frowns. He pushes his thumb up against the head of Taemin’s cock, making him hiss and thrust forward. “Well -- have you ever been fucked before?”

“No.” The word is bitten out as Taemin glances away, seemingly embarrassed for the first time. “...Not the way you mean it, at least.”

Jinki raises a brow, but doesn’t press for details. He continues massaging him through his sweats, and skates his other hand idly down Taemin’s side as he thinks.

“Then how about I bottom? I know I like it, and I don’t want to have to stop halfway. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Taemin’s eyes widen briefly as he looks down to Jinki. “Really?”

“Since you texted me, yeah.” He pulls Taemin close and kisses him slow until his eyes flutter shut, then murmurs against his lips. “I’m guessing you’ve never prepped anyone before, huh?”

“No,” Taemin says. “But I can do it.”

“Alright.” Jinki grins and slumps back, laying flat on the mattress. He looks at Taemin through his lashes and tugs on his shirt. “Your clothes coming off this time?”

Taemin nods. He pulls the hem of his shirt from Jinki’s hands, then yanks it over his head and tosses it aside. His chest is as flushed as his cheeks, but he meets Jinki’s eyes without hesitation. “Yours should come off, too.”

Jinki pats his hip. “You’ll have to get off me for that.”

Taemin rolls off the bed. As Jinki undresses, he reaches for the bag under the bed and pulls it out, grabbing the lube and condoms from inside. He’s still struggling with opening the boxes the lube and condoms had come in when Jinki is naked and back on the bed, and his attention flits between the two until he finally rips through the flimsy cardboard. He tosses the single condom packet up by Jinki’s head, but the lube stays in his hands when he climbs back on the mattress.

Jinki strokes himself slowly, an amused smile on his lips as Taemin flicks open the cap with a shaking hand. “You want help getting started?”

“I can figure this much out,” Taemin says, jaw tense. He aims the bottle at his right hand and squeezes, going wide-eyed when it spits out a huge glob covers his palm and drips onto the mattress. “Shit.”

Jinki snickers, unable to help himself, and Taemin glares at him. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

With Taemin’s fumbling, half of it ends up on his surrounding skin, but he doesn’t mind -- it’s an unintentional teasing that has his legs spreading wider, and when Taemin finds his rim, he’s worked up enough to rock against just the pad of his finger.

Above him, Taemin swallows heavily. “Should I just...push in?”

“Yeah,” Jinki breathes. He rests a hand on Taemin’s bicep in anticipation, and tightens it when it slips past his rim. Taemin’s lip pulls between his teeth as he stares down at Jinki, watching his reaction as he pushes even deeper.

“It’s alright?” Taemin asks, clearly nervous.

“Yeah, yeah--” Jinki nods fervently to reassure him, wanting to rush things along. “You can add another.”

Taemin licks his lips, clearly hesitant. He pushes the single finger he has in Jinki knuckle-deep, then pulls back again, repeating the motion twice before Jinki feels the blunt press of a second against him.

He grips the sheets tighter and pushes down his hips, trying to urge Taemin on. It’d been too long since he’d done this; he’s already desperate for more.

“It’s fine, really, two isn’t much--” he chokes on the last word when Taemin adds the second, body heating with pleasure at the stretch. He lets his head fall slack against his pillow. His eyes slip shut as Taemin works his fingers deeper, slowly beginning to spread them, and he doesn’t see Taemin leaning over him until he suddenly feels lips against his shaft.

He reaches down blindly, fumbling until he finds a fistful of Taemin’s hair to clutch. “You can do both at once, if you want--”

Taemin hums something affirmative. He noses against Jinki’s thigh and glances down shyly to where his fingers are disappearing into him, then lifts his cock with his other hand and brings it to his lips.

“ _Shit._ ” Jinki’s breath halts as Taemin takes him further into his mouth. It’s better than the last time. He’d been too drunk to appreciate the movement of Taemin’s tongue, and quickly he gets everything slick with spit. His hips rock up, and Taemin’s fingers twist, and he’s forced to bite the back of his hand to keep from moaning too loud.

Taemin pulls off of him, letting Jinki’s dick rest against his cheek. He looks up with a cocky smile. “How many fingers do you need before you’re ready?”

“T-three, normally,” he grits, too absorbed in the dual pleasure of Taemin’s fingers and he’s now turning back to his shaft to give a longer answer. “But if you want to fuck me now, we can--”

“No. I’m enjoying this,” Taemin cuts him off. He gives the barest warning -- just a slight press of the rim with his ring finger -- then swallows down over Jinki’s cock again and pushes in, all three fingers crammed tight against each other as he stretches Jinki wider.

A string of curses leaves his mouth. The hand he doesn’t have against Taemin’s head scrambles across the sheets until he finds he finds the corner of the bed to grip. Sweat beads over his brow as Taemin twists his hand and buries another set of knuckles in him. After so long without anything close to this, the combined sensations border on too much, but the race of heat it sends through his limbs makes it impossible to think of stopping.

Half of him doesn’t want to bother with a warning when pleasure begins to pull in his stomach, it feels so good -- but Taemin leaves him no room for him to consider it. He pulls off the moment he starts to feel Jinki stiffen, eyes dark and lips shining with spit. “I want to make you come like that, some time.”

Jinki pants for a moment before finding his voice. “That’d be good, yeah -- but I still want to fuck tonight.”

“Me too.”

The condom packet is snatched up from where it had rested by his head. Taemin rips it open without hesitation, but Jinki can see the uncertainty in his eyes when he turns over the condom in his hands.

Jinki sits up just enough to take it from him. “Let me.”

Taemin’s brow furrows when Jinki grips him by the base, pumping him once before using his other hand to stretch the condom over his cockhead and roll it down over the shaft. With Taemin still watching, he grabs the bottle of lube and squeezes some onto his palm.

He kisses Taemin slowly, letting the heat build between them again as he strokes him. The weight of the cock in his hand builds his anticipation, and he hurries to lie back on the bed the moment it’s coated in lube.

“You should be good, whenever you’re ready.” He places his legs on either side of Taemin, letting his heel rest on the mattress. Taemin stares at him, swallowing hard, then moves to hover over him.

A pang of sympathy clenches his stomach as Taemin fumbles with lining himself up. In his eagerness to get here, he’d forgotten about the probability that Taemin could be a _virgin_ with this, and might need a little guidance. Sitting up on an elbow, he quickly reaches between them and guides Taemin’s cock to the right place. His other hand cups Taemin’s cheek as he offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about hurting me or finding the perfect angle, alright? Just let yourself enjoy it..”

The tension in Taemin’s neck relaxes when he nods. He bows over Jinki, then moves his hips down, pushing past Jinki’s already-stretched rim easily.

“Oh, _fuck_ \--” The hand Jinki has between them falls slack at the blunt pressure. When Taemin stills, he shakes his head hurriedly. “No, it’s good, keep going.”

Taemin tucks his head against Jinki’s collar before continuing, this time moving in small and measured thrusts that put him deeper each time. His breath is warm, labored even before he starts to pick up a rhythm, and the spark it leaves behind makes Jinki’s legs shake as he wraps them behind Taemin to clutch him closer. The press of Taemin’s bare skin to his heats him quickly, and his stomach is already slick and smooth with sweat when he reaches between them to try and palm at his cock.

“Faster, please,” he mumbles, needing more. Taemin tries, only for his knees to skid across the sheets and force him to readjust. The second Taemin takes to shift onto his elbows and move back up the bed is agonizing, but the wait is worth it -- the next thrust forward sends a rush of pleasure up his spine that makes him tip his legs back closer to his chest to allow Taemin even deeper.

He gropes blindly for Taemin’s hip, tugging him forward when he finds it, and groans when Taemin moves a hand to the back of his thigh to keep him in place as he fucks him harder. The rhythm is harsh and fast as Taemin starts to chase his own pleasure. His pulse pounds in his ear, drowning out the moans that catch in his throat and the steady creak of the cheap bedframe beneath them.

His eyes squeeze shut each time Taemin reenters him harder than the last. He’s getting closer, so fucking close that nearly forgets to bite back his next moan. Like this, it’ll only take another minute, and the warning he wants to give is on the tip of his tongue when a sharp _thump_ against the wall behind them snaps him from his haze.

Both of them freeze. The bedframe shakes for another beat from their momentum, banging against the wall a second time. They look at each other, wide-eyed. Jinki’s heart races in the silence until it’s apparent no one had been woken by the noise.

Taemin lifts himself back over Jinki, face flushed from exertion. “Should I just go slow again? Like how we started?”

Jinki scowls, frustrated. “I’d rather not, I was getting close.”

He weighs his options. Moving the bed away from the wall would be a pain, especially if they had to do it each time -- and his bed is too narrow to fuck on it comfortably sideways.

But said they needed to stick to the bed?

“Hold on. I have an idea.”

He pushes on Taemin’s chest until he gets the message and shifts back, letting his cock still-hard slip out from Jinki. Jinki grabs the comforter and sheet they’d pushed aside before starting and throws them to the floor, then rolls off the bed onto his knees.

“There shouldn’t be any issue with the bed making noise if we stick to the floor.”

“Uh--” Taemin gapes down at him, clearly caught off guard by the suggestion. “Will this still be comfortable for you?”

“The blankets will keep me from getting rug burn or anything.” He leans forward, shifting fully onto his hands and knees. When Taemin does nothing but stare, he raises a brow. “...Will _you_ be alright with fucking me like this?”

Taemin swallows and nods, then climbs off the bed to join him on the floor. The blankets shift under Jinki’s knees as he moves closer, and it only occurs to him how brazen he’d been when he feels a tentative hand rest on his lower back and he feels Taemin's body heat behind him.

“Should I just...go back in?”

“Yeah.” Noting Taemin hesitate, he looks back at him over his shoulder. “Do you want help?”

“No, uh -- I think I got it.”

Jinki’s pitches forward, hand flying to his side to clench in the blankets. Taemin mutters a curse as he slips back inside, and bottoms out in him without pause.

“You want it faster again?”

To avoid pleading, he only nods. The lack of furniture makes it near-silent, even as he picks up pace. There’s no creaking bed, no knock of the headboard. Only the occasional slap of skin against skin when Taemin thrusts in deep, and the heavy groans that escape through his clenched teeth.

Jinki arches his back, lowering himself onto his forearms to brace against the thrusts as he uses his other hand to jerk himself off. There’s a hitch in Taemin’s rhythm when he notices Jinki’s movement.

“Can you make yourself come like that, hyung?”

He’s not sure if it’s a question or a demand, but his hand tightens. “Fuck, yeah.”

“I want to feel you come while I’m in you.”

He nods into the crook of his arm and strokes himself faster. He doesn’t know if Taemin’s experienced that before -- the extent of his experience is a mystery, and he doesn’t care -- but the thought that he might be the first man Taemin’s ever fucked makes him want to give anything he’s asked for. And it doesn’t take long. The pace of Taemin’s thrusts is still relentless, and the heat the hand on his back and the other on his hip is _too much_ ,  unbearable in the most perfect way, and he feels himself hurtling quickly towards his peak.

His voice catches in his throat, too lost in the build-up to find words, and he only manages a strangled curse before his cock throbs in his hand and come streaks across the blankets beneath them.

He’s sure Taemin feels it. His hips stutter the moment Jinki comes, fingers curling tight against his back. Even through the condom, the swell and pulse of his cock is obvious, and press of his thighs against Jinki’s when he pushes in as deep as he can makes it easy to tell he’s riding out his own release.

It feels like hours that they stay like that -- thighs pressed together, and Taemin buried deep inside him -- but he knows it must only be seconds. When Taemin murmurs a question about pulling out, he’s still half-hard, and Jinki lets out a quiet huff at the sudden discomfort of being empty.

He rests back on his heels, still enjoying the afterglow while Taemin pulls off the condom and bunches it in a pile of tissues before crawling over to the small trash can in Jinki’s room. Jinki watches him with a grin, enjoying the view.

The post-orgasm flush on Taemin’s cheeks deepens when he turns around and catches the direction of Jinki’s stare. He yanks out another tissue to dab at his crotch. “Uh, I guess I should--”

He tries to lift himself onto his shaking legs, only to trip on his feet and end up back on his knees.

Jinki waves a hand at him. “You don’t have to leave right away. You can stick around until you can feel your legs again.”

“Thanks,” Taemin mumbles, clearly relieved. He drags himself over to the bed and climbs onto it, then sprawls out with a heavy sigh. “That was an experience. My body needs a break.”

Jinki laughs and wipes himself down with his discarded shirt. His bed is clearly sized for one person, but he joins Taemin on it anyway, pushing his legs back towards the wall and draping an arm over him. He winces as he bends his knees to lay on his side. “Shit, me too. I think I might’ve overestimated how much my knees can take...”

Small lines of tension frame Taemin’s lips. His eyes flit over Jinki’s face, in search of sign that the question was a subtle signal of disapproval, before he finally seems to relax.

“...It was alright, though -- yeah?”

“Oh, more than alright.” Jinki confirms with a grin. “I’m just old. Don’t make me doubt your ability to give someone a good fucking. We can use a pillow next time.”

Taemin’s face freezes briefly at the mention of _next time_ before his eyes crinkle in amusement. “If you were that old, hyung, you wouldn’t have the energy to stay up late like this.”

“Maybe not, yeah.” He flattens out the hand he has over Taemin’s chest, lifting himself up for their eyes to meet.beside Taemin over his arm. “But staying up like this isn’t going to affect you, is it? I know sleep can influence performance quite a bit....”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. You know how many of us sleep in, I can get away with getting a few extra hours sometimes.”

Jinki nods through a yawn before reaching off the bed to fumble for his phone. He doesn’t regret staying up for this, but the talk of sleep makes him all-too aware of how ready he is to drift off.

He sets an alarm on his phone for twenty minutes ahead.

“This should keep us from falling asleep for too long,” he explains, conscious of how Taemin had watched every tap of his fingers to the screen. “It wouldn’t be good if someone found us in here like this.”

“Mm.” Taemin presses closer to Jinki, settling himself in a more comfortable position against Jinki now that the obligation to keep himself awake is gone. “Good idea.”

Jinki watches Taemin’s eyes slip shut. Seeing him tired shouldn’t do anything to him -- he’s seen _all_ of the team in various states of drowsiness -- but the puffs of breath that slow against his skin make his bed feel like a whole different world.

 

* * *

Taemin fucks differently when he wins.

He waits less time after the rest of the team goes to bed before knocking at Jinki’s door, or ushering him back inside his room from the kitchen. There’s adrenaline in it, right from the start -- no slow build, or exploration, like he sought on the other few nights they made time for this _thing_ they’d started. He knows what he wants, exactly, as if he’d been turning it over in his head all day for a reward to himself -- and each time, he seems to thrill at how willing Jinki is to give it to him.

Today, he’d wanted to fuck Jinki over something -- so for the first time, they bothered wtih moving the bed away from the wall just so Taemin could bend him over it.

Taemin had pulled out, just to the remove the condom, but had made no more movement than that . His weight is still bearing down on Jinki’s back. As he drifts off, his body moves from a pleasant source of warmth and reminder of what they’d done, to a deadweight that makes it harder to breathe. Jinki swats at Taemin’s arm to wake him.

“C’mon, let’s move. You’re heavy, and my legs are cramping.”

Taemin grumbles, but rolls off him and onto the bed, laying flat on his back with a sigh. He brushes a finger along Jinki’s thigh to get his attention before he goes through the motions of cleaning. “Good for you, too?”

“Always is.”

Taemin closes his eyes with a hum and smiles, content. “I’m so glad our coach hired you. Food and regular sex is what every athlete needs.”

Jinki snorts. He grabs a fistful of tissues and stuffs the used condom in the middle, the same method they’d been using to hide them from the start, then tosses the crumbled-up ball in his garbage.

“I don’t think they hired me for the sex part.”

“Probably not, no.”

Taemin laughs as Jinki settles on the bed with him. He slips an arm under the back of Jinki’s head and drapes the other over his chest, getting comfortable. Jinki picks his phone up from the floor and opens it to the usual game he plays while they wait for their bodies to calm down.

“You’re really good at that game. You ever play anything else?”

“Nope.”

_Changsun: Hey, I heard you’re coming back to Korea soon? Is that true?_

A text pushes pushes down form the top of his screen. Even before he can consciously process the name, his stomach drops.

In a rush to get the notification away, he closes his game with a curse.

“Who’s that?”

His heart races, post-sex bliss disappearing in an instant. Why is Changsun messaging him now? And how had he heard about that? They had friends in common, sure -- the community is like that -- but that didn’t mean they should have updated Changsun on what he was doing. Or explain why he’d even _care_.

His tension must’ve been obvious. Taemin nudges him, insistent, and it’s only then that Jinki realizes he hadn’t answered him before. “Hyung? Who’s Changsun?”

Jinki glances at Taemin quickly before looking back to his phone. His first impulse is to lie, and call Changsun a friend -- but why should he? All he and Taemin have done is sleep together.

“He’s an ex.”

Taemin stiffens. His chest shifts against Jinki’s arm when he takes a long breath. “...Why’s he messaging you, then?”

“Hell if I know,” Jinki grumbles. “We haven’t talked in months.”

“Oh.” Taemin relaxes. “How’d he find out the team’s taking a trip back?”

“I mentioned it to some of our mutual friends, since I might want to meet up with them. I didn’t think they’d tell Changsun about it. Or that it’d matter if they did.”

A minute passes where neither of them speak. Taemin’s expression is blank, and his tone is neutral when he finally speaks. “Are you going to respond?”

“Don’t know yet.” Jinki shrugs. “But either way, I’m going to leave him on read for a while.”

Taemin laughs. “You’re ruthless.”

Jinki’s lip quirks. “Maybe, but it’s what he deserves.”

Taemin lays back down, head returning to its former spot on Jinki’s shoulder. The fingers of the hand he has resting on Jinki’s stomach curl when he speaks. “He must’ve been pretty shitty to make you want to leave the country.”

An unexpected pang of guilt hits Jinki. He’s hated Changsun on-and-off since their breakup, to be sure -- and he’d never quite forgive him for the suddenness of it -- but it doesn’t feel right to hear someone else talk about him as if he were cruel.

He runs a thumb across his phone, flipping back and forth between his home screens. “I mean...he wasn’t awful to me, not really. Our relationship was alright. It only got messy at the end. But some of that’s my fault. I should’ve known better than to think we could be friends right after breaking up.”

Taemin purses his lips in disapproval. “Still seems weird for him to message you suddenly, if you haven’t been talking.”

“A bit, yeah.” After a long sigh, he blacks out his phone screen and drops it off the side of the bed. “I’ll think about it later.”

Taemin observes him silently, expression inscrutable again. Their eyes meet for a half-beat before flicking away from each other -- Jinki’s, back to the ceiling; and Taemin’s, back to his jaw.

If Taemin were jealous, it should be obvious. He’d never seemed able to hide an emotion. It only took Jinki a single glance at him when the team returned from the arena to tell whether the game had been a victory or a defeat, and how much Taemin credited or blamed himself for the outcome.

Not being able to read him is frustrating. And recognizing that he even cares enough to be frustrated is more frustrating.  Much more than it should be, considering most of the time they spend together is in the bedroom, talking about nothing more than what position to try or the game on Jinki’s phone.

When his phone alarm goes off, and Taemin gets up to leave, he feigns sleep to avoid another conversation. There’s the quiet rustle of fabric as Taemin gets dressed again, and darkness on the inside of his eyelids when he flicks off the light. He waits to hear the opening of the door, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s the heat of a body leaning over him, the tug of the blanket besides him, and the gentle drape of it over his bare chest and shoulders.

The opening click of the door that he’d been waiting for comes a moment later, but he barely registers it over the rapid beat of his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarity: Taemin's mom is not kpop's HyunA. I don't know the names of Taemin's actual parents so I used the names of Runner (Daehoon) and Flowervin (Hyun Ah), who manage the Runaway Overwatch team. They're kind of known as the "mom and dad" of the team, so I thought it'd fit alright.

The stage playoffs are a rollercoaster for the team. They squeak into the semifinals bracket by a single win, and nearly miss the finals in a heated rematch with their rivals, the Monsters. For the first time, Jinki goes along to the arena to watch the game -- and gets to see the momentum they’d been building since his arrival come to fruition with their first major win.

Taemin shoots up from his chair when they win the last map and leaps over to his teammates, fitting as many into his arms as he can. When they go to shake hands with the losing team, he tries to temper down his excitement, but the bounce in his step makes it obvious he’s riding a high from their win.

The van ride back is a mess of noises: players recalling their best moments, trash talking the mistakes of their opponents, and singing along to the few lines of the radio hits they’ve learned. Jinki starts the grill for the beef ribs he’d marinated overnight the moment they return to the team house.

Same as their last major victory, Coach Sooman has filled a whole shelf of the fridge with bottles of soju. The drinking starts before Jinki can set down the first plate of dinner, and escalates when Minho urges the group into games. The drunker they get, the more they want to eat, and Jinki is somehow roped into making street foods on demand -- either authentic, or in whatever form he can manage with the ingredients he has -- and that keeps him busy.

It’s a few hours past midnight when the last player stumbles upstairs, leaving behind the remnants of the fishcake Jinki had cooked for him. He listens to the distant sounds as he picks up the dishes. There's the door closing, and a minute later -- as he expects -- the sound of feet flying down the steps.

He downs the centimeter of soju remaining in his glass and looks towards the noise with a grin. “Not tired, huh?”

Taemin rushes to him, taking Jinki’s head between his hands as he crashes into him with a kiss.

The momentum is enough to nearly topple him, and everything else happens too fast for him to return -- Taemin’s mouth is against his, then his tongue pushes in, and there’s a small scrape of teeth along his bottom lip before he pulls back, panting.

“We should go to your room.”

Taemin’s thumb rubs against his cheek when he nods. He’s still breathless when Taemin grabs him by the wrist and drags him out of the chair, not letting him go until they’re in his room and he needs his hands free to strip off his shirt.

He tosses the blankets down to the floor and urges Jinki onto knees. Jinki only has the button of his jeans undone before Taemin tips him back and palms him through the slit of his boxers.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you since we won.” Taemin’s breath is hot against his neck as he noses under his ear, a fistful of hair in his hand. “Really wish everyone else had gone to bed earlier.”

Jinki’s pulse races, every word lighting more nerves under his skin. “Me too.”

He hurries to undress himself, maneuvering clumsily around Taemin to strip off his shirt and jeans. Taemin tugs off his boxers for him while he’s reaching for their stash of condoms under the bed. Holding his hand out for the bottle of lube, he nudges Jinki’s legs open with his knees, and wastes no time in slicking himself up.

When Taemin's hand reaches between his legs, he pushes it back and sits up to roll the condom onto Taemin himself. He's too worked up to wait, and they've fucked recently enough to not need any preparation but lube. 

Taemin moves over him. He pushes in slow, watching Jinki's face carefully, and doesn't stop until he's bottomed out. Jinki sighs when he feels Taemin's hips press against him. He expects a pause, as there usually is, for both of them to adjust to the new link between their bodies -- but this time, there’s none. The second after Taemin is fully in him, he draws his hips back, nearly bringing the head of his cock back to Jinki’s rim, and thrusts in again with a single push.

A sound somewhere between a choke and a whimper catches in his throat, making Taemin still.

“Do I need to slow down?”

Jinki shakes his head quickly. The pace Taemin had set has him burning under his skin, and the last thing he wants is to disrupt it. He holds tight to Taemin’s back when his hips jerk forward, again without restraint. His nails dig in as he tries to brace himself against the movement. Taemin curses when one of his hands slips and scrapes along his back.

“Shit, hyung--” He catches Jinki’s lips against his on the next thrust.

An arm hooks under Jinki knee, pulling his thigh up, and the angle forces a deep moan from him before he can even think to muffle it. Taemin doubles down on the new position as if chasing the sound.

Jinki can’t help the noises he makes, and covering his mouth barely helps. It’s louder than he should be, considering the team is upstairs, maybe not even sleeping -- but he doesn’t care. Every sound that escapes him makes Taemin grab him by the hips to fuck him faster, and that’s all the matters.

Taemin leans back just enough to watch him through half-lidded eyes. The inch of space it makes between them is enough for Jinki to grab himself, and after that, everything happens quickly. It only takes a few tugs for him to come across his stomach, and he’s still leaking when Taemin follows after him.

When they’re able to move again, they roll off each other to stare up at the ceiling, chests heaving as they catch up on air.

“Wow.”

They look to each other and laugh when their eyes meet. Jinki pulls up the corner of a blanket to wipe at his face, trying to remove some of the sweat that plastered his bangs to his forehead. Taemin props up on an elbow to watch him, a small smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think I ever asked. Did you enjoy watching the match today?”

“More than I thought I would, yeah. I didn’t realize how much better I’d gotten at following fights.” He nudges Taemin. “You had some really good plays, you all deserved that win.”

“Thanks.” Taemin slumps back down onto the floor, this time with an arm slung over Jinki’s stomach. “It was a good way to end the stage. I’ll be a lot happier visiting home knowing we’ve won something big.”

“Ah, yeah...I keep forgetting the coach bought us tickets back.”

“Not looking forward to it?”

“I _did_ take this job to get away from there.”

“Ah, yeah...that’s true.” Taemin traces a finger over the edge of his ribcage. “But we still have a few days before we go back, at least. What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

“Other than cook? No idea.”

Taemin wiggles his fingers against Jinki’s side, making him jolt and roll away. When Jinki glares at him, Taemin only grins. “I know you’re our chef, but you still you should take some time to relax and celebrate like the rest of us. ”

Jinki grunts and wraps his arms around himself for protection from any future tickling. “I don’t need to relax -- especially not right before a vacation.”

“Just _one_ day without cooking every meal for us can’t hurt,” Taemin says. “You can spare some time to come shopping with me. I want to see what the malls are like here, and I have a few grand to spend.”

“I’ll come if the coach is alright with it,” Jinki says, moving back close to Taemin. “Someone has to keep the money from getting to your head.”

 

* * *

 

They wait until the hottest part of the day has passed before heading to the outdoor mall they’d picked out. The place is huge and crowded with what looks like a mix of LA-natives and tourists. For a few minutes, they do nothing but wander aimlessly through the crowd, walking past the spas and makeup stores that seem to make up the outer rim of the mall until they reach a coffee shop.

“I kind think I want a drink for walking around,” Taemin says. “You want one?”

“Sure, yeah.”

The place is packed when they enter, but the line moves forward with practiced efficiency. Jinki squints at the menu ahead as he tries to decide what he wants. Taemin rocks back on his heels, impatient. His attention shifts around the crowded shop, bouncing between signs for specials and random passerby, until he suddenly stops.

Jinki follows the direction of his gaze to a pair of girls on the other end of the shop. Both of them stare at Taemin, only to dart their eyes away when he tries to look at them.

Taemin nudges Jinki. “Do you see them looking at us?”

“I think it’s just you, actually.” Jinki glances back over to them. “Do you think they recognize you?”

Taemin scoffs. “What’re the odds of that?”

They reach the front of the line and place their orders. When Jinki and Taemin turn from the counter, the pair look up to them, finally making eye contact.

The brows of the taller one shoot up. She turns quickly to her friend for another hushed discussion that ends when the taller girl nods and sets her shoulders back.

Taemin’s eyes widen when she begins walking towards them, expression turning quickly to panic.

“Hey,” she greets Taemin, eyes bright. “This is probably weird, but...you’re ACE, right? On the Saviors?”

“Yeah, I am,” Taemin says. His voice is softer in english, and he looks anxious when he glances over to Jinki beside him, as if seeking help. “You know me?”

“Yeah! My friend and I are huge fans. We were at the game on Sunday -- you played great. I still can’t believe that last stick you made.”

“Thank you, uh--” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “It took a lot of practice.’

“I bet, but that’s why you’re a pro.” She grins. Her gestures hurriedly to her friend, calling her over. “I’m sure you’re here to relax, so I hate to ask but...would you mind giving us autographs?”

“Sure, sure.” Taemin blinks after agreeing. “Um, do you have a pen...?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry--” She digs through her purse and produces a pen and a pad of wrinkled paper, then passes it over. Taemin tries to balance it on his palm as he signs, but the paper tips, leaving only an unintelligible streak of ink.

“Just use my back,” Jinki offers, turning around.

“Thanks, hyung.”

Taemin laughs and sets the pad of paper on the back of his neck. The pressure of the motion through his shirt leaves a tingle along his skin as Taemin signs, and he has to force himself out of a daze when he notices the girl that’d requested the signature look to him with interest.

“Are you a friend of ACE’s?”

“Uh, kind of? I’m the team’s chef.”

“Oh, cool! I didn’t know they had one.” She grins. “Good to know there’s someone feeding them well.”

“I try.”

“He’s good, yeah.”

It’s a small acknowledgement, but his ears flush with the praise. He feels Taemin tear off the first sheet he’d signed, then quickly completes the second autograph. Jinki straightens when Taemin removes the pad of paper and returns it to them along with the pen.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks! I hope you get some rest before the next stage.”

They shake hands and give an awkward and unpracticed half-bow before they leave. When the glass door shuts behind them, they huddle together for an hug, then pull back to flap the papers Taemin had signed for them in each others faces with elated grins. After turning back one last time, they skip away, autographs held close to their chest.

Taemin exhales heavily once they’re out of sight, making Jinki laugh.

“You’re a celebrity now, huh? Are you ready for the fame?””

“I guess.” Taemin runs a hand through his hair, embarrassed. When their drinks are announced, and Taemin makes the quick trip over to the counter to pick them up, and hands Jinki his when they return. “I really don’t mind the attention, but my english isn’t great. I hope they weren’t bothered...”

“I’m sure they’re happy to get anything. You’re their savior, afterall.”

“Ugh,” Taemin groans and shoves his shoulder. “That’s _terrible_.”

Jinki laughs around his straw. “I just wish it hadn’t taken me so long to make that joke.”

“I wish you hadn’t made it at all,” Taemin says, though his lips are pulled in a smile. “C’mon, let’s find a store we actually want to go in.”

They meander back into the mall crowds. The few stalls that are set up in the middle of the walkways have nothing but tourist items, so they stick to the edges, walking right along the store windows and their countless displays.

Taemin stops when they reach a clothing store almost entirely decorated in black and white. “Let’s go in here -- I’ve always said I’d buy something from this brand if I were rich...”

“Looks overpriced,” Jinki says after scanning the displays. “Do they really charge that much for t-shirts?”

As if in challenge, Taemin glares at him and approaches the door. “It’s _my_ money.”

“Not questioning that,” Jinki says. He eyes the store’s sparse and carefully lighted displays with wariness, then looks down at his drink. “But are we allowed to bring coffee in there? I haven’t been in a luxury store before...”

“They’ll say something if we can’t.” Taemin smirks. “And we can always pretend not to understand them, anyway.”

Jinki snickers and opens the door for both of them, ushering Taemin into the shop. The attendant gives them a brief greeting before leaving them to browse. Taemin immediately shoots over to a display of shoes on the other end of the store

He leafs through the clothes, unsure what to look for. There’s nothing that different than normal clothes, from what he can tell. The shirts and jeans on display are all surprisingly plain, and the only jeans that catch his eye are a simple dark blue. He pulls them off the rack, making sure to be careful with his drink, but nearly drops it when he sees the price.

“Hey, Taemin?”

Taemin is elbow-deep in a display of shirts and across the store, but it’s quiet enough inside for him to hear Jinki and look up. “Hm?”

“These are too fucking expensive.”

Taemin laughs and walks over to join him. “You like them, though?”

“I mean, I guess...but I don’t like it much now that I know the price.”

“You should still try it on.” He pushes the jeans back against Jinki’s chest. “We’re here to have fun. It’s not like you have to buy it or anything.”

Jinki looks down at the pants, still skeptical, and sighs. “Fine. It’s not worth the effort of speaking English, but I guess I’ll try them on just to say I did...”

He heads to the counter to ask one of the two employees running the store to let him into the dressing room.

Stepping out of the curtained room, he looks at himself in the mirror. The jeans fit perfectly -- as they should, considering they cost _seven-hundred dollars_ \-- and the wash of the denim looks even nicer on. He turns and looks over his shoulder to see what the jeans look like from the back. In the mirror, Taemin catches his eye.

“Those fit you well.”

“Yeah?” Face heating, he smooths his hands over the denim on his thighs. “They’re pretty comfortable, I guess -- didn’t realize jeans could feel like this.”

“Maybe high-end stuff is just like that.” Taemin takes another sip from his coffee before looking up at Jinki through his lashes. “Do you think you’d ever wear them?”

“If I were a millionaire or a celebrity chef, yeah. But not in _this_ lifetime.” He tugs the curtain of the changing room back into place and starts taking them off. “I’m getting out of them before I have to pay for them.”

He hears Taemin laugh on the other side of the curtain. By the time he’s undressed and out, Taemin has two black leather belts looped over his arm and a new wallet in his hand. He side-eyes him as he goes to return the jeans he’d tried on to their spot on the rack.

“Do I even want to know how much all that costs?”

“Probably not, but I’m getting it.”

As Jinki shakes his head, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He opens it to a message from Changsun, resuming the conversation that’d petered out last night. It’d been nothing serious -- just Jinki fishing for hotel recommendations for the trip back, since Changsun knows the industry well -- so what he sees catches him off guard.

_Changsun: Sorry for vanishing, I fell asleep_

_Changsun: You know, if a hotel is too hard on your budget, you’re welcome to stay with me for a few nights_

_Changsun: I understand if you don’t want to, but I thought I should offer_

Jinki stuffs his phone back into his pocket without sending a response.

He’s not sure if he’s more flustered or furious. He doesn’t want Changsun’s help. He doesn’t even know if he wants to _see_ Changsun when he’s in Korea -- and Changsun knew that. Where did he get off inviting him to stay over, when Jinki had left the damn country to avoid being reminded of him?

In front of him, Taemin clears his throat, making his head snap up from where he’d been glaring at an overpriced pair of socks.

“I’m going to check out, unless you want to spend more time here...?”

“I’m fine, yeah,” Jinki says, too quickly. When Taemin eyes him oddly, he forces himself to smile. “I’ll wait outside for you, alright?”

“Sure, hyung.”

Taemin watches him hurry out, concerned, but makes no move to follow him. Once outside, JInki takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be in a bad mood -- that isn’t fair to Taemin -- so he turns his phone on silent and resolves to ignore it for the rest of their trip.

“You feeling better?”

“Here, uh --” Taemin holds a bag out to him with a shy smile. “This is for you. I hope you were just hesitant about the jeans because of the price.”

Jinki stares at the bag before taking it, dumbstruck. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” His stomach tightens with guilt. “...this isn’t you trying to cheer me up, is it?”

“No, I planned on getting you something. I wasn't going to change plans just because you got into a bad mood.”

Jinki glances down into the bag, catching a glimpse of jeans he’d bought, and one of the two belts he’d seen Taemin carrying. His stomach tightens. “Thank you, but...you really didn’t need to spend this much on me.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” Taemin shrugs, still avoiding his eyes. “Just consider it a bonus for feeding us so well. We wouldn’t have gotten to the stage finals if we were still living on McDonalds and takeout.”

Jinki smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Taemin confirms with an answering grin. “Plus, it feels right. I’m the more hyung-like one between us.”

“Where’d you get that idea?”

Taemin blinks at him, overly innocent. “How we are in the bedroom?”

Jinki’s cheeks heat. Though he knows the chances of someone around them being able to understand their conversation, he still lowers his voice before whispering back. “Age has nothing to do with that!”

“Ah, really?”

“Yes, really. I’ve switched plenty with partners older than me.” He winces when his thoughts immediately turn to Changsun. “We shouldn't talk about this here, anyway.”

“Sorry,” Taemin says. “I was just trying to joke around.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs and runs a hand over where his phone is kept deep in his pocket. “I’m just a bit touchy at the moment.”

Taemin’s attention flicks down to his hand, then back to Jinki’s eyes. “Is your ex bugging you again?”

Jinki’s lip quirks in a bitter smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“The last time he messaged you is the only time I’ve ever seen you pissed off, so yeah.”

“Fair.” Jinki huffs. “We’ve been talking on and off. Just friendly stuff, I thought, but now he’s offered to let me stay with him while we’re in Korea.”

A flash of something -- hurt or anger, Jinki can’t tell -- races across Taemin’s face. “Are you seriously considering it?”

“It’s a tempting offer. I don’t want to see him, but I can’t say I’m having fun hotel hunting, or spending the money...”

“Why is it between him and a hotel?? Do you not have any family in Seoul?”

“I do, but I’m not really welcome.”

“...Oh.” Taemin looks down and shuffles the handles of the bag in his hand. “Sorry I keep putting my foot in my mouth.”

“It’s fine, really. I’m not all that torn up about it anymore.”

“Still...” Taemin chews his lip. “How about you stay with me and my parents? We have a spare room, since my brother’s going to university in Daejeon.”

Jinki stares at him for a long moment before answering. “I mean, I don’t want to impose on your family...”

“You aren’t -- I’m inviting you. My parents would be happy to meet anyone from the team. They were pretty worried about me moving to LA.” He nudges Jinki with an elbow and smiles. “Besides, won’t it be good to have a home-cooked meal you didn’t have to make yourself?”

Jinki laughs. “That does sound pretty nice, yeah...but I want to make sure you have permission to invite me first.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that now.” Taemin taps his fingers rapidly against his phone screen, until the text is nearly filled up, then hits send. “They’re at work now, but they’ll get back to me quick. You can go ahead and tell your ex you won’t need his place.”

Jinki pauses. “I think I’ll wait until your parents confirm before deciding anything.”

“That’s fine, I’ll let you know what I hear,” Taemin says, though he looks irritated. He squints at the stores around them, then gives a long sigh. “I think I’m done spending, and I’m hungry.” He smiles at Jinki broadly. “Buy me dinner?”

 

* * *

 

Jinki shifts carefully in his seat, trying not to jostle Taemin when he adjusts his arm to keep it from cramping again. Sometime during the inflight movie, Taemin had fallen asleep on his shoulder, leaving Jinki stuck.

It isn’t the worst position to be in -- Taemin is a steady point of warmth in the cold airplane cabin, -- but it’s the closest they’ve come to showing _anything_ in front of his teammates, and it’s hard not to worry what they might think.

The captain makes it through the entire pre-landing speech before Taemin sits up, eyes puffy, and blinks in confusion at his surroundings. “Huh?”

“We’re landing in a few minutes,” Jinki says, voice low and gentle. “You slept through most of the flight.”

“Mm.” Taemin grumbles one last time against his shoulder before resting back in his own seat. “Was the movie good?”

“I stopped paying attention about halfway through, so no.”

Taemin gives a sleepy laugh. “Well, at least I didn’t miss anything.”

The plane pulls into its terminal just a half hour after their original arrival time. They give short goodbyes to their teammates as they filter out one at a time to be picked up by family and friends. On their way out of the terminal, they pass a duty free shop, where Jinki slows and points inside.

“Hey, can we go in here for a minute? I don’t want to go to your parent’s house empty-handed.”

“Wow, really?” Taemin raises a brow. “You’re so polite.”

“They're doing me a huge favor, letting me stay before they’ve ever even met me. It’s just good manners to give them something in thanks.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll help you pick something.”

They make a full lap around the shop to get an idea of the options, until Taemin stops in the candy section.

“How about some fancy chocolates? The boxes are pretty, so it wouldn’t matter that it’s not wrapped.”

Jinki eyes him suspiciously. “...These are for your mom, right? And not for you?”

“I won’t promise to not take a few.” Taemin grins as he scans over the different brands before finally settling on one from an Italian-sounding brand. “Oh, get these! My dad got them for my mom once, she loves them.”

“Alright.” Jinki crouches down to pull it off the shelf. “Should I get something for your dad, too?”

“Just get two boxes. He always steals some of my mom’s candy, he just never admits it.”

Jinki laughs and grabs a second. As they head to the checkout, Taemin reaches into his backpocket until Jinki glares at him.

“You’re not paying for any of this. _I’m_ the guest.”

Taemin huffs, but stuffs his wallet back in his jeans. “Fine, fine. I already got some wine for them in my suitcase anyway.”

Jinki pays quickly and shuffles the bags over his shoulders to carry the boxes in front of him, ensuring they won’t get jostled on their way to the luggage pickup. The gate is bustling with people, making it near impossible to make out any faces in the crowd, but Taemin lights up the instant they’ve neared their exit gate.

“They’re here, c’mon.”

He grabs Jinki by the sleeve and drags him towards a middle-aged couple standing at the corner of one of the luggage carousels.Though he’s never met them before, it’s easy to recognize them as Taemin’s parents: the woman is short, with tight-cropped hair, but she has Taemin’s eyes; and the man is lean, with the same tall stature that makes him stand out in the crowd.

His chest squeezes with a mix of envy and happiness as he watches Taemin rush into their arms. He shuffles on his feet outside the tight circle, unsure what to do with himself, and only approaches when Taemin’s mom pulls away to dab at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Sorry -- it’s just been so long since we’ve seen him.” She smiles, keeping one arm around Taemin’s shoulders as his dad pulls away. “You’re Taemin’s teammate?”

“Yes, I’m the team chef.” He bows deeply. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to stay with you.”

“Of course! We’re always happy to support Taemin’s team however we can.” Though Taemin’s dad says nothing, he nods shortly in agreement. Jinki takes the brief moment of silence to hold out the boxes of chocolate he’d purchased with both hands.

“Oh, thank you -- you’re so polite!” She takes the package of candies carefully, eyes lighting at the brand. “I’m guessing Taemin told you these were our favorites?”

“ _Your_ favorite, not mine,” his dad says, making Taemin roll his eyes. He nods to the luggage on the conveyor belts. “We should grab your suitcases and get on the road. I’m sure you’re both tired after such a long flight.”

“I slept the whole way, actually,” Taemin laughs. “But I am a bit hungry.”

“Of course you are.” Taemin’s mom pinches one of cheeks. Jinki snickers when he sees Taemin’s ears turn red. “We’ll stop somewhere on the way home, alright? It’s a bit too late to make you all a proper meal, but I’ll cook tomorrow. I’m a bit nervous of making something quick and easy for your chef friend.”

“Ah, I’m not that great of a cook,” Jinki says. “I’m still learning. I’m sure anything you make would be delicious.”

“He’s just being humble, seriously.” Taemin beams at him, proud. “He cooks _really_ well.”

She pouts, teasing. “Didn’t miss my food at all then, hm?”

“No, no, I definitely did.”  He smiles and glances over his shoulder. “Ah, there’s my suitcase though -- I’ll be right back!”

Jinki gives her an apologetic smile before following Taemin to the carousel, where their luggage is sitting next to each other on the long conveyor belt. After they have their bags, they make a quick trek to the garage where they’d parked the family car. Jinki ends up in the back with Taemin, and gets a full view of his excited gesturing as he runs through a short summary of his season so far.

When they stop for the late dinner his mom had promised, Jinki can’t help but be excited. It’s the first authentic Korean food he’s had in ages that he hasn’t had to cook himself, and it’s all delicious. Taemin’s parents talk through the entire meal with them, quizzing Taemin about his matches and teammates and adjustments to LA, while updating him with small details on their own lives. He hadn’t thought to ask about Taemin’s parents, despite taking up the invite to stay with them. He learns Taemin’s mom, Hyun Ah is a teacher; and his dad, Daehoon, is some kind of marketing manager for a business Jinki’s never heard of.

Only when they’re leaving the restaurant does he realize that their back-and-forth had somehow never come to the topic of his parents. Either Taemin had told them not to ask -- or they’d guessed on their own that him needing a place to stay meant nothing should be said about his own family.

It shouldn’t bother him. They’d been nothing but kind, and he’s certain it was out of politeness they’d avoided asking, rather than distaste -- but it still makes him feel odd. He manages to keep up his earlier friendliness, despite the strange knot in his stomach, but he can tell Taemin notices.

At a pause in the conversation, he leans the back of his hand against Jinki’s leg and sends him a questioning look. Jinki tries to brush him off with a shrug, but the pursed-lips he gets in response make it clear Taemin isn’t buying it.

The knot in his stomach turns into a sinking feeling when they pull up to Taemin’s home and step inside. Everything about it is inviting -- there’s a series of pictures along the wall with Taemin and trophies, and a man Jinki presumes to be his brother in graduation robes. An extra pair of slippers has been left out for him in the small entrance way that he pulls on with a small thanks.

He can’t remember the last time he’s been anywhere that was so obviously a family home. Most of his friends are either estranged from their families, or careful about keeping their closeted status safe that they kept their gay circle of friends separate from the rest of their life. They met up in bars or cramped apartments, so he’d never had to face being around a family since he’d left behind his own.

Taemin’s mom gives him a brief tour of their home that ends at Taemin’s brother’s room, where he’ll be staying for the night, then excuses herself to bed. Jinki unzips his suitcase just enough to pull out a pair of pajamas and his toiletry bag. He tucks them under his arm and walks through the dimly-lit house to the spare bathroom. Numbly, he starts the routine of brushing his teeth and washing his face, when he hears a soft knock at the door.

“Can I come in? I want to get ready for bed, too.”

“Sure, I’m just washing up.”

He unlocks the door. Taemin slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself and joining Jinki at the sinke. He uses the already-running water to wet his toothbrush, going through the motions of getting it ready, but catches Jinki’s eye in the mirror when he straightens after splashing his face.

“Are you feeling alright, hyung?”

“Yeah. Just tired from the flight, I guess,” he says. It’s only a half-lie, but Taemin still frowns and narrows his eyes at it.

“I can tell something’s up, you know. Is it your ex again?”

“No -- I haven’t heard from him yet, thankfully.” He sighs and pulls back from the sink to dry his face. “It’s just a bit...weird, being around your parents. Nothing they’ve done, obviously -- I’m just not used to spending time with anyone’s family.”

Taemin winces. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Don’t be.” Jinki smiles tightly. “ _I’m_ sorry to be weird about it -- they’re really sweet. They haven’t noticed me being off, have they?”

“Not at all. They like you a lot -- you’re probably the most polite friend I’ve ever introduced to them.”

Jinki snorts. “Well, that’s something. Can’t imagine they’d still feel that way if they knew half the things we’ve done.”

Taemin places a hand on his hip to turn him away from the sink. In the small bathroom, there’s nothing to look at but Taemin’s eyes, which are fixed on him with full sincerity.

“That doesn’t matter, hyung.” The hand on Jinki’s side flattens, palm resting warm against the hem of his nightshirt. Taemin gives him a sheepish smile and steps closer to him. “It’s not like that’s a bad side of you. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Jinki asks, face heated. Taemin’s close enough that he has to look down to meet his eyes. Close enough to kiss, if they weren’t in the spare bathroom of his parent’s house -- but Taemin doesn’t seem to care about that. He leans down, one hand still on Jinki’s side as the other moves to rest on his arm, and presses their lips together softly. The warmth of it rolls down into Jinki’s chest, building a flutter into his nerves that stays even when Taemin finally pulls back.

“...We should go to bed, probably,” Taemin says, breathless. The white light of the bathroom makes the flush on his cheeks appear as a stark red. “My mom usually gets up early.”

Jinki loosens the fingers he hadn’t realized were gripping Taemin’s shirt. “We should, yeah.” He picks up his toothbrush and reaches for the door handle. “I’ll see you in the morning, then?”  

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Jet lag keeps Jinki from sleeping until three in the morning, but he still forces himself to wake up at seven to keep from seeming like a lazy guest. When he comes out to the living room, Taemin’s mom is awake and sitting at the kitchen table, writing on a small notepad.

Jinki bows in greeting the moment she notices him. “Good morning.” .

“Oh, good morning -- I’m surprised you’re up. Taemin’s still sleeping, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is. I just want to get adjusted to the time here as quickly as I can.“

“Not a bad idea,” she says. “I was planning on going to the store to grab ingredients for tonight’s dinner. Is there anything you need?”

“No, but thank you.”

She smiles and returns to writing. Jinki shuffles on his feet, feeling awkward in the silence. “Would you want me to come with you to the store?”

“You don’t have other plans?”

“Not really...I didn’t really plan on coming back, until our coach bought us tickets.”

Her expression softens. “Well, if you don’t think it’ll be too boring, you’re welcome to come with. I could use an extra hand to carry things, anyhow.”

”I’ll be happy to help -- just let me grab my wallet.”

“Oh, don’t do that. I’ll be paying for everything.”

“I wouldn’t mind covering some of it, since I’m staying here for free--”

“Nope, I won’t hear that!” She shakes her head and stands, tearing off the list in one efficient motion. “You’re our guest. And so much younger than us, you need the money much more.”

“Thank you,” Jinki says. “Should I still grab my ID in case we want to buy alcohol?”

“Oh, probably -- it is the end of the week, isn’t it? Taemin’s dad will want something when he comes home.” She smiles. “Since we’re not related, and you look so young...I can imagine they’ll card you.”

Jinki laughs. “I’ve gotten away without it at bars, but never a grocery store.”

Jinki returns to his room to grab his wallet. The door to Taemin’s room is shut, and when he creaks it open, Taemin is dead asleep and sprawled out across his entire bed. Jinki grins at the sight and closes the door behind him.

Hyun Ah raises a brow at him when he returns. “Taemin still sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Jinki says. “Doesn’t look like he’ll be up for while.”

“Sounds about right.” She sighs affectionately. “Let’s go ahead and leave. If we wait for him, we won’t get out of here till noon.”

They leave the house with the family’s cloth bags in tow. The local grocery is only a few blocks away, so they walk the whole way, giving Jinki a chance to observe the neighborhood. At midmorning on a weekday, it’s quiet, and the trees lining the sidewalk make the tightly-packed houses seem less crowded.

Chatting with Taemin’s mom is easy, once they get to the topic of the food. Jinki describes the weekly staples he makes for the team, and Hyun Ah asks him to explain how he cooks each, giving them a chance to compare their ingredients and techniques.

They reach the produce stand first. Jinki picks out the vegetables as Hyun Ah goes down her list. He grabs the carrots, ginger, and green onions, and is halfway to reaching for the garlic when she asks him a question and throws off their rhythm.

“How’s Taemin been getting along with his teammates?”

Jinki stops in the middle of his reach, caught off guard. “Um -- good, I guess?” He grabs a head of garlic and rests back on his heels. “They seemed to get along when I joined them, and are a bit closer now that they’re winning again...”

“Ah, I’m glad. That’s good to hear.” She smiles, visibly relieved -- as if she expected to hear something else -- and Jinki’s curiosity piques.

“...Was there a reason you thought he might not?” He keeps his eyes on the produce to try to not seem overly interested..

“Not particularly, I guess. I just remember his old team had a few tensions in it, before they split up,” she says. “Nothing serious, from what he told me -- just issues over who would be the starting player, who the coach gave attention, things like that. They were all close, and then suddenly, they weren’t...” She gives a long sigh and shrugs. “But I guess that’s just what happens when you put so many competitive young men together. At least Kibum and Minho are on his current team, even though they weren’t who he was closest to.”

“Hah, yeah.” Jinki says. His mind lingers on the word _men_ as he bags the garlic. He’d never questioned if Taemin enjoyed sleeping with him, and he’d tried not to give much thought to whether there had ever been anyone but him.  Thinking of himself as nothing more than an experiment was uncomfortable, even if what they had was entirely casual.

But hearing that there had been tensions on his old team -- and realizing now that Taemin had mentioned only _four_ players beside himself, when a team required six -- he has to wonder. Who was the fifth he’d never brought up?

His thoughts swirl as they finish grabbing the vegetables and head to the neighborhood butcher. It’d make sense, if Taemin had slept with whoever that old teammate was. Jinki had never entirely bought Taemin’s claim of inexperience. This seems as close as he can come to a confirmation that there had been some other man in his past, when Taemin had gone out of his way to hide it.

It shouldn’t feel good to realize Taemin had lied to him -- but it _does_. His heart lifts in his chest. It’s confirmation of a pattern, near-solid proof that he isn’t one-off thing or an easy outlet. All the things he’d written off as impossible suddenly seem likely, and all the things he’d convinced himself were wishful thinking seem more like signs.

He doesn’t know if Taemin would want more than hooking up, but with everything he’d done lately, he has to wonder.

He finishes up shopping with Taemin’s mom in a light mood. They split the bags between them for the trek home, this time making the walk in a comfortable silence.

Taemin pouts when they walk into the kitchen. “Where’ve you two been?”

“Just the grocery and the butcher, nothing fun.” Hyun Ah sets down the bags on the table with small huff. “I wanted to make something fancy for your visit.”

“Oh.” Taemin’s eyes light up, any trace of annoyance disappearing in an instant. “What’re you making?”

“Beef tripe stew,” she says. “It’ll take me most of the day, but I figured you’d want to stay home anyway, since you’re still recovering from the flight.”

Taemin grins. “You’re the best.”

The TV Taemin had been watching is left on for white noise as his mom begins to clean the tripe. It’s an involved process of scrubbing the meat down with salt and scraping off the fat. Jinki looks between her and Taemin on the couch, trying to decide where to go.

After what he’d learned, he’s dying to talk to Taemin. But not helping with such an elaborate meal seems rude, so he heads to the kitchen and hovers at the edge of it until Hyun Ah looks up at him.

“You need something?”

“I thought you might want my help?” He asks, tentative. He knows well himself how territorial cooks can be of their kitchen.

“Well, I won’t turn you away.” She grins. “Are you sure you don’t want to relax, though?”

“Nah, I’d rather make myself useful.”

It takes around an hour to get the broth cooked, and they use the time to make as many side dishes as the kitchen table will fit. Taemin’s dad returns home as the stew is cooking on the stove. He talks over his workday as they finish up the last parts of the meal.

“I usually love cooking for Taemin’s friends, but I’ll have to admit I’m a bit nervous, knowing you’re a chef.” She laughs and shakes her head as she moves the stew to the center of the table. “I hope this turned out alright. Maybe I should have picked something less complicated.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great.”

Time passes quickly as they eat. Jinki makes sure to try a bit of everything. When Taemin’s dad offers him a drink, he can’t turn it down, and talking gets easier. He answers questions about cooking and life in LA with Taemin, and as the night goes on, manages to pry out a few stories of Taemin’s teenage years.

The rapid-fire buzz of a phone receiving dozens of messages interrupts their conversation midway through a story about Taemin’s first gaming tournament. All of them turn to the sound, and Jinki apologizes quickly when he realizes the phone is his. Sometime while he was cooking, he’d left his phone on the a side table between the kitchen and living room.

Before he can switch off the notifications, it gives a few more buzzes, making Taemin’s dad laugh.

“Wow, someone’s popular. Do you have a girlfriend here?”

“Definitely not.” Jinki laughs awkwardly. “It just looks like I didn’t receive any messages till now, for whatever reason.”

He scrolls quickly through the texts on his way back to the table. Only two are from Changsun -- both infuriatingly friendly -- and the rest are from his friends, who still hadn’t given up on dragging him out to their usual bars.

When he looks up, Taemin is watching his face intently, mouth wrinkled in a poorly-hidden frown. It lingers after Jinki tucks his phone away into his back pocket, and even when it finally disappears, Jinki can _sense_ the irritation in him.

He excuses himself from drinks a half hour later to get ready for bed, and feels strange as he settles into his borrowed room.

Taemin isn’t the type to get annoyed by something as small as his phone going off during dinner, so he has to imagine the upset is because of who might be messaging him. He bites his lip, thinking. Does that mean he’s jealous of Changsun? It seems possible, considering how withdrawn he got whenever the man came up -- but now that he knows Taemin has a past, he wonders if it’s just that any ex is a reminder of what he’d lost.

He’s not surprised to hear the door open. It’s only the second day in Seoul, and Taemin had slept too much that morning to be adjusted to Korean time yet.

When Taemin closes the door behind him, he sits up in bed. He’d had what he wants to say half-planned, but it sticks in his throat as Taemin approaches him. He doesn’t want to risk the hurt of being turned down if he’s blunt -- all he wants to do is test the waters -- but he doesn’t even get a chance to think of how.

Taemin is on the bed with him before he can say a word, cupping the back of his head and pulling him into a kiss. Jinki swallows the words that were on his tongue as Taemin pushes him down onto the mattress.

The jagged edge of a condom scrapes against his palm when Taemin’s hand slots over his. He hears something drop beside his head, bouncing on the mattress once, and when he turns to look, instantly recognizes the half-empty bottle of lube that he thought he’d left under his bed in LA.

The knowledge of Taemin’s intent is enough to make his body heat even before he’s touched, and he forgets all thoughts of talking with him. When Taemin reaches for his sweats, he lifts his hips to help Taemin pull them off, then does the same with his shirt. Taemin’s hands roam briefly over his bare skin before pushing him back to the bed. His legs are nudged open by Taemin’s knees, and he spreads them readily, breath coming fast as Taemin’s jerks him off and slips a slick hand between his legs.

Taemin catches each moan he gives with a kiss as he’s stretched wider. It still takes less time than usual -- whether because his need is obvious, or because of the urgency in Taemin’s movements, he doesn’t know -- but he’s more than willing to say he’s ready when he feels the third finger push into him.

“You can fuck me,” he pants. “That’s enough.”

Taemin leans back to look at him, slightly skeptical.” Already?”

“Hasn’t been that long,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”

Taemin stares at him for a long moment before nodding and pulling back. Jinki watches in the dim light as he tears open the packet for the condom and rolls it down over his cock without hesitation. Their eyes meet as he strokes himself, twisting his wrist with efficiency to ensure he’s covered every inch of himself with lube.

He barely remembers to breathe. The sudden heat of Taemin over him makes him dizzy, but they’ve done this enough that he doesn’t need to think about what should come next. He tries to reach between them to line Taemin up, but Taemin’s hand is already there. It only takes a slight shift of Taemin’s placement on the bed before Jinki feels the starting pressure of the head against his entrance, and a second later, the stretch of being opened up as Taemin pushes into him.

At the first sound that escapes him, Taemin covers his mouth with his hand, leaving Jinki to groan against his palm as he sinks deeper. His palm returns to the mattress when he finally bottoms out, and his eyes lock again with Jinki’s as he takes a deep breath to adjust.

Nothing exists but the feeling of Taemin’s skin on his and the piercing intensity of his gaze. The pound of his pulse in his ears is enough to drown out the white noise of the house’s appliances, making him near-certain that Taemin can hear it too. His hands clench over Taemin’s back, desperate for movement, and he shifts his hips in need.

“Taemin, ple--”

Before he can even finish the plea, Taemin covers his mouth again, this time with a fierce kiss that shakes Jinki more than the accompanying thrust of his hips forward. He’s already shaking from the heat, and as Taemin finds a rhythm, he starts to come apart at the seams.

When the bed begins to creak under the weight of their movements, Jinki curses and turns his head away from Taemin’s lips. He expects him to stop and pull out, as they always had in the team house when the furniture became an issue, but Taemin does nothing more than slow his hips.

He places a light hand on Jinki’s chin, turning his face back, and covers his mouth with a kiss so slow and tender it echoes through Jinki’s bones. The sensation is so different than anything they’ve shared -- intimate, nearly -- that he’s speechless as Taemin continues. There’s only the steady slide of Taemin’s cock in and out of him, the softness of his lips, and a warmth blooming in his chest that he’s helpless to stop.

Overwhelmed, his eyes squeeze shut. Feelings are the last thing he wanted during _this,_ but he can’t help them now. He kisses Taemin back, letting himself fall into the moment. Taemin doesn’t move faster, but his thrusts deepen and linger, as if he were trying to press an imprint of himself onto Jinki’s skin.

The buildup of heat under his skin is so slow that he’s caught off guard when he comes. Taemin is holding himself deep, kissing Jinki firmly, when a sudden flash of heat makes him gasp against Taemin’s mouth. His fingers curl against the sweat-slick skin of Taemin’s shoulders as he comes between them, cock throbbing again and again with the gentle rocking of Taemin’s hips.

Taemin must feel him trembling, or the new stickiness between their skin -- his mouth leaves Jinki’s to hide in the crook of his neck as he continues fucking him, just a half-beat faster than before. It’s a pace to reach his own end -- almost too much for Jinki to handle -- but he still digs his heels into the back of Taemin’s thighs to encourage him.

A stuttered exhale falls against his jaw when he feels a soft pulse inside of him. Taemin collapses against him, silent except his heavy panting.

The air in the room is warm and still. Jinki isn’t sure how long they stay like that, loose-limbed and stuck together, but it doesn’t feel like long enough.

Taemin keeps his eyes away from Jinki’s when he pulls out. His legs tremble as he stands from the bed, and Jinki watches him stumble across the dark room to find tissues to ball around the condom before tossing it in the garbage.

From the heaviness of Taemin’s silence, he half-expects him to just get up and leave -- but the mattress dips beside Jinki when Taemin rejoins him on the bed. Instead of draping over him like usual, Taemin lays flat on his back to watch the ceiling. The only point of contact between them is a stray finger Taemin keeps on his wrist, and somehow, that makes it harder to talk.

He gives up on finding the right words. He reaches out a hand to Taemin’s hip, curving his palm against it as he moves closer. When Jinki’s chest presses to his side, he stiffens, but makes no move to draw back. Jinki tries to look up at him with a tentative grin.

“Can’t say I expected to have sex at your parents house when you invited me to stay here.”

Taemin huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well...I couldn’t sleep. Thought it might help.”

“Mm.” Jinki brushes his hand over Taemin’s arm, slowing when he feels the prickle of goosebumps rise against his palm. “You probably shouldn't sleep in here with me, though...I don’t know how open you are with your parents, but--”

“I know,” Taemin cuts him off, bitter. He glares up at the ceiling before letting out a heavy sigh. “You think we’ll ever be able to sleep together? Like, _actually_ sleep -- all the way to the morning?”

“I don’t know. That depends on our living arrangements, doesn’t it?”

Taemin says nothing. Jinki stays still in the silence, worried he’d said the wrong thing, until he feels Taemin’s chest stutter with a small exhale.

“I’m guessing you didn’t have to worry about this with your ex.”

Jinki’s eyes widen. “I mean - we didn’t, no, but we obviously had other issues.”

“Not enough to keep you from talking with him or think about seeing him, though.”

Taemin turns over and slides off the bed, leaving Jinki’s arm to fall to the sheets. Jinki watches him retrieve his pajamas, speechless at the abruptness of Taemin pulling away. He only finds the nerve to say something when Taemin is dressed and has a hand on the door.

“Taemin, wait--”

Taemin stops, but only looks at him from the corner of his eye.

“If you don’t want me to talk to him anymore, I won’t. It really doesn’t mean that much to me.”

Taemin’s fingers tighten around the doorknob before his hand falls away. “...Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Jinki sits up further to make sure he can see Taemin’s face and swallows. He’s being more bold than he’d meant to be before having a better idea of Taemin’s feelings -- but he doesn’t want Taemin to spend the rest of their visit thinking he’s only a few text messages away from meeting up with Changsun.

“...I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, either.”

When Taemin only stares at him, Jinki’s stomach knots. There’s no sign of what he’s feeling for what must be a full minute, until he finally glances away, one hand quickly coming up to cover his mouth.

Taemin meets his eyes one last time before leaving without a word. The flush on his cheeks is obvious, even in the dark, and the fumbling of his hand on the knob is enough to make the nervous pounding in Jinki’s chest ease.

He doesn’t know what kind of sign it is -- but it seems good. Better than the tension Taemin had come into the room with, at least.


	4. Chapter 4

Jinki gets no more time to try and pry out Taemin’s thoughts the next day. His parents are out of the house, busy with job obligations, but the moment Taemin is up, he’s ready to head off to a meetup with old classmates. Jinki tags along at Taemin's invitation, and though he can’t keep up with the dozen inside jokes the group seems to share, he still has a good time. They start in a coffee shop, then make their way to a different neighborhood for a group-favorite cafe to grab bingsu.

Taemin’s friends filter out one-by-one after dessert. None of them had taken Taemin’s path, so all of them are busy in one way or another with school or part-time jobs. By late afternoon, they’re alone, and Taemin leads the way to the nearest subway station. They hadn’t made plans to have dinner with his family again, so there’s no obligation to return home, but Jinki’s wary of going out for anything else. 

He has a handful of text messages asking him to go out for drinks. Most are from friends he’d be happy to see, but as always, the possibility of running into Changsun lingers in the back of his mind -- his friend group travels in a pack, and it’s hard to imagine a scenario where he won’t pop up to join their usual bar hopping.

As they wait for the train, he scrolls through his contacts, trying to think of who among the friends he’d like to see would be most willing to give up a night at their usual clubs and meet him elsewhere. 

Taemin notices his inattention and nudges him.

“Did you have anything else you wanted to do before we head back?”

“Not really. I was inviting a friend or two out, maybe, but I’ll have to figure out where to go outside of Jongno and Itaewon...” He trails off, thinking of last night, then adds, “if I went there, I’d be likely to run into Changsun.”

“Mm.” Taemin looks at the passing train on the other side of the station. “I guess you’ve decided not to meet up with him, then?”

Jinki turns to him, frustrated. Hadn’t they talked about this last night?

But Taemin’s face is blank, as it usually is when Changsun comes up. Jinki scuffs a foot against the ground and huffs.

“I don’t want to see him, no. My friends are suggesting drinks again, but I haven’t said anything back to them. I know he’ll be there, and convincing them to leave him out when the only person with an issue is  _ me _ isn’t really a dignified option...” 

“Then don't do it,” Taemin says. “It’s not like you planned on being here, anyway.”

“True.” Jinki sighs. “Just not sure what to do the rest of my evening, then...”

“Well, is there anything you missed about the city?”

“Other than the eating and drinking, no.”

Taemin rolls his eyes. “Alright, my choice then. How about a PC bang?”

“Really?” Jinki asks, surprised. “You play games for your job, I figure you’ll want to avoid them during a break...”

“It’s hard to get burnt out after winning, and playing for fun is way different than scrimming.”  Taemin grins and places a hand on Jinki’s arm. “Besides, you’ve never played  _ my _ game, have you?”

“Yeah, but that just means I’ll be awful at it.”

“You don’t have to be good to enjoy it,” Taemin says. His fingers curl tighter in Jinki’s sleeve. “And it’d be good for you to see what we play, wouldn’t it? We can always quit if you don’t like it.”

“Alright, I’ll give it a try,” Jinki grumbles. “Just promise not to get mad at me when I play like shit.”

Taemin laughs. “Don’t worry, I can carry you.”

Jinki raises a brow at him, giving a long once-over that stops at his arms. “No offense, but I don’t see how that’s happening.”

Taemin scowls and pinches him. “If you want me bigger, then cook us more meat.” 

“Your coach only gives me so much money to feed you all with -- if you want more expensive meals, you’ll have to go to him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He looks away, pouting, and tugs Jinki towards a different subway line before releasing his arm. “We’ll have to get on a different train, but my favorite PC bang is just a few stops away.” 

It takes them about twenty minutes to get there. The sun is just beginning to set behind the high-rise buildings when they enter the PC bang. Taemin wears a small, nostalgic smile as he walks up to the front counter and grabs them cards. The center of the room has several long rows of monitors, most of them taken, and the erratic clicking of mouses and keyboards is loud enough to hear from where they’re standing. Squinting, Jinki scans across them, trying to find two open seats next to each other, but Taemin points to a cubicle where two computers are tucked-in against the wall, isolated from the longer rows.

“Let’s grab that spot, we’ll have more room to ourselves.”

They settle into the seats. Taemin reaches over to his PC to sets up an account for him, paying for an hour of computer time with his own card before Jinki can protest, then does the same for own. He scrolls through a pop-up menu on his screen and orders a few snacks for them, then points to a familiar-looking icon on on Jinki’s.

“Click on that and you can log in. Have you ever played Starcraft before? You can use the same login for Overwatch.”

“Um....I don’t think I have?” Jinki says, hesitant. “I’ve only ever played phone games, really.”

Taemin eyes him skeptically for a moment before nodding. “Alright, well...just make a new account, then.” 

By the time he’s registered and has launched the game, their food has been brought to them. The cheap and salty scent of the instant noodle cups Taemin had bought is too much to ignore. He grabs the chopsticks on the serving tray and starts on them as Taemin goes through menus to group them up, tapping something on Jinki’s keyboard to accept the invite the moment it goes through.

“Mm--” Jinki swallows quickly. “I can’t play while I’m eating, can I?”

“No, but I’ve just put us in queue. It usually takes a bit for the server to find a match--”

A clear-sounding beep from the headphones hanging from his neck. When he looks to the screen, a GAME FOUND message blinks quickly across the top before disappearing into an announcement of the map.

“Oops.” 

Taemin sends him an apologetic smile when Jinki glares at him, unable to say anything with noodles still stuffed in his mouth. Jinki finishes his current bite, then sets down his chopsticks with a sigh and returns his hands to the mouse and keyboard. 

“I’ll forgive you, but only if my food’s still warm after this game.”

Taemin laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll win it quick for us.”

Jinki picks the character Taemin suggests as the simplest. When the game begins, he tries to stick with Taemin and play on the little knowledge he has from watching Minho use the same character -- which isn’t much.

Five seconds after the match begins, he gets shot from across the map. Taemin looks over to his screen and winces, then turns back to his own. As Jinki waits to revive, he watches Taemin’s brows furrow with concentration as he flies across the screen, and an instant later, the character that’d shot him is dead.

Taemin grins at him. “I avenged you.” 

Jinki turns back to his screen with a small smile and heat in his cheeks. He doesn’t know if Taemin is being protective, showing off, or just trying to make his introduction to Overwatch smoother, but he likes it.

They win the next few fights -- largely thanks to Taemin -- but it doesn’t take long for the enemy team to realize he has no idea what he’s doing and hone in on him as a target. Against the full focus of the other team, Taemin can’t do much, and Jinki spends most of the second half of the game dead.

After being picked out for the third time in a row, Jinki throws himself back in his chair with a groan. “I can’t even do anything or get back to you guys, I’m just getting slaughtered.”

Taemin glances over to his screen, where the latest death of Jinki’s character is replaying. “That’s....actually my fault, I think. Since we’re grouped up, it’ll try and match us with people at my level.”

Jinki stares at him, deadpan. “So I’m playing against other pros?”

“More or less?” He tilts his head, apologetic. “But I can switch accounts. I have one I’ve never really used much, so it shouldn’t screw you over.”

As Taemin backs them out and switches to some other account -- amusingly named PRETTYBOY -- he finishes his noodles. They’re thrown into another match the instant they queue up, but this time, he sees the other players are all of similarly low levels to him.

The match is chaos, probably because of the number of them that have no clue what they’re doing -- but Jinki enjoys it much more than the last match. He manages to make a few plays himself, and Taemin paves the way for more, either herding the enemies to him or making sure he stays alive long enough to get a few kills.

When they end the match with a victory, he realizes his heart is racing. He leans over to Taemin and bumps him with his shoulder. “I think I get why you like playing this.”

“Yeah?” Taemin laughs, obviously delighted. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“As long as I play against people as bad as I am, I think I’ll like it a lot.”

“You’re not  _ bad _ , really -- you have good reaction time, I can tell. You just...”

“Have no idea what I’m doing?”

“Yeah.” Taemin smiles sheepishly. “But you’ll get there! You’re new, so it’s fine. Watching our matches can give you a wrong idea of how it’ll work compared to playing with random people, too. It’s a lot harder to coordinate.”

“I imagine playing with the same people helps a lot,” Jinki says. His mind travels back to Taemin’s old team -- the one with the single player Taemin had never discussed -- and he swallows.

Playing the game is the perfect time to ask about him, but he doesn’t want to do it now. They have a few hours of fun ahead of them, and he wants to enjoy it as long as he can.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been playing when the Taemin suggests that they leave soon. The game blocks out the computer’s clock, and Taemin has insisted on paying for every hour, so he’d lost track of the amount long ago. As the next match starts up, he gathers his nerve and starts what he hopes seems like an innocent line of questioning.

“So on the Saviors, we have Kibum and Minho on support, Jimin and Wonsik on tanking, and you and Joy on offense?”

Taemin hums. “Yeah, those are our roles. 

“Who played offense with you on your old team, then? I know Joy didn’t come with you, and I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned anyone else...”

Taemin freezes. It's only a second, but it stops him long enough for him to die the instant the enemy dives him.   
  


When Jinki looks over, his face flickers through a series of emotions before settling on something tight-lipped and blank. “It was Jongin -- or KAI, I guess, is how you’d know him -- he plays on the Monsters with the rest of my old teammates now.”

“Ah.” Jinki tries to sound neutral. “Do you not talk to them anymore?”

“Not really, no.” Taemin trails off, unfocused. He runs into the middle of a fight, and is quickly wiped out. He stares blankly at the monitor as the screen replays his death.  “There was never a big fight or anything, but, uh...” He trails off, eyes flicking nervously between Jinki and the rest of the now-packed PC bang. “I’d rather not talk about it here.”

“You don’t have to talk about it at all if you don’t want to.”

“I know, but...” Jinki sees Taemin swallow before giving a long sigh.. “It might be good to, I guess.” He pauses again, eyes unmoving from the screen. “...You’re the only person I know that I  _ could _ talk about it with.”

Another half-minute passes before the match ends. Though they’d won, Taemin frowns and closes out of the game. Jinki does the same, then turns his chair to Taemin, trying not to show his nervousness.

“If you want to talk, then...is there anywhere you’d be more comfortable?”

Taemin shrugs. “Wherever is fine, as long as it’s quiet.”

“Alright.” 

Jinki takes the lead on getting them out of the PC bang. He doesn’t know the street they’re on, or anything about the neighborhood at all, but it only takes a short minute of walking away from where the crowds seem to be to find a near-deserted corner store with plastic chairs and tables outside.

“Here good?” He asks, and Taemin nods. They head inside to grab drinks before finding themselves seats. Jinki immediately heads to the chilled beer display in the back and grabs a brand he’d missed, then turns to Taemin.

“Do you know what kind do you want?”

“I’m good without one, thanks.”

Jinki raises a brow. “Don’t like beer?”

“No.” Taemin’s looks to the empty shop behind them. “I actually don’t like drinking much at all. It was just, you know...the only way I could do anything, before.”

“Oh.” Though Jinki had been trying to keep his distance until they talk, the vulnerable expression on Taemin’s face pulls him in. He rubs Taemin’s shoulder briefly before pointing to another part of the store. “You want a soda, at least?”

Taemin smiles. “Sure, yeah. Just a coke is fine.” 

Jinki pays for their drinks at the counter. He gets the cashier to open his beer for him, then they step outside the shop to settle into a free pair of plastic chairs. For what feels like ages, the only noise between them is the noise of the nearby road and the satisfying hiss and bubble of Taemin opening his coke. Taemin looks to the side as he takes a long first drink, either gathering courage or trying to postpone their conversation.

He fidgets, guilty and impatient. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Don’t be.” Taemin shakes his head, though he seems no less comfortable. “I should’ve expected it eventually. And I’ve pried a bit about Changsun, so...it’s only fair if you get to ask me some questions too.”

The comparison catches him off guard. “So, he was...?”

“Kind of like Changsun is to you, I guess. Mostly on the trying to avoid him thing, and moving away from my old friend group because of him.” He smiles bitterly. “He was never mean about it, but it just got weird, you know?”

Jinki hums in understanding as he lifts his beer for a drink. Taemin’s watches him through every motion, mouth tense, and waits until Jinki has a mouthful of liquid before speaking again.   
  
“I lied to you,” Taemin says, posture stiff. “About being inexperienced. Jongin and I slept together, which you’ve probably guessed by now, but...there was more than just him. I’ve been with other guys, too.”

Jinki blinks. “...Okay?”

From the somber expression on Taemin’s face, he expects Taemin to say more -- but nothing comes. His lip curls at Jinki’s silence.

“You don’t have anything to say about it?”

“Not really. I get why you lied, so it’s not a big deal,” Jinki says, shrugging. When Taemin only narrows his eyes, he leans back. “Do you _ want  _ me to say something else?” 

“I don’t know.” Taemin crosses his arms and pulls them tight against his chest, frustrated. “I thought you’d be upset, since I lied to you, or at least because I’ve been with other guys...”

“I mean, I kind of suspected...based on how quickly you jumped to blowing me, and the fact you didn't have any of the usual teeth issues guys have their first time giving, either...”

Taemin ducks his head down and scratches his nose. “Thanks, I guess.”

Jinki laughs, amused. “You’re welcome.”

The pause in their conversation is natural this time. Taemin returns to his drink, more relaxed, and gives him a shy smile when he sets it down.

“I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to be bothered. You probably have a bit of experience too, right? Outside of your ex?”

“Yeah. He was the first guy I ever settled down with, really...before that, it was just any guy I could have fun with.” He traces a thumb over the condensation that’d started to collect on his bottle. “I think that’s why I took our breakup so hard.”

Taemin frowns, sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Jinki shrugs. “Over now, obviously, and I’m fine with that.” He looks up to Taemin, curious. “Were you and Jongin serious?”

“...Hard to say, really. The only difference between Jongin and the other guys is that I waited longer to come onto him, since I had feelings...and he didn’t turn me down, but he kind of freaked out the next day.” 

“I’m surprised that didn’t make you gun-shy.”

Taemin snickers. “Yeah...that would’ve made sense, wouldn’t it? But I guess my libido outweighed me on that. Plus, when you joined us, I got a feeling, and --” He stops. “Don’t take offense to this -- but you were new to the team. I figured I’d give it a shot, and since you’re our chef, it wouldn’t have impacted the game too much if it ended badly.”

Jinki huffs. “And I thought it was my good looks.”

“I mean, that helped.” Taemin grins. “I really lucked out when you joined us.”

Jinki returns the grin. “I think I got lucky, too.”

Taemin’s eyes widen briefly before looks away, embarrassed, but the smile on his lips doesn’t leave. “...Did you always flirt this much?”

“Maybe. But I mean it more now.” When Taemin stares at him, eyes even wider, Jinki pauses to take a breath. “I’ve really started to like you.”

The flush already on Taemin’s face deepens. His chair scrapes against the cement as he shifts nervously.

“You mean, like...” he glances up, then down to his now-empty drink. “The ‘wanting-to-date’ type of liking?”

Too tense for words, Jinki nods. Taemin fidgets a hand against the table, still silent. He’s blushing, which seems like a good sign, but he still hasn’t said anything directly in response to Jinki’s confession. Jinki waits, anxious. He can almost see seconds ahead, where Taemin is returning the confession, but he worries up to the moment Taemin finally speaks.

“...I’d kind of hoped you might, but I can’t say I expected it, considering how things started between us.”

Jinki leans forward. “You hoped I might like you?”

“Yeah.” He reluctantly meets Jinki’s eyes. “I started liking you too. Though that’s probably obvious.”

“Only recently -- and I still wasn’t sure.” He grins. “I needed to hear it.”

“Well, you have now, so...” He tails off, sheepish, and blinks hard. “Where do you want to go from here?”

“I mean, it’s really up to both of us. But we’ve kind of skipped the normal ‘dating’ stage -- not that I’ve ever done that before -- so I don’t see why we shouldn’t go ahead and call it a relationship.”

The word seems to make Taemin look equally delighted and nervous.

“Are you sure you’re alright with that? I’m not, you know...” He waves his hands ambiguously. “ _ Out _ in any way. And I don’t plan on being anytime soon.”

“I’m not out to the team, either.” Jinki shrugs. “I don’t care who knows or doesn’t know, as long as you don’t get a fake girlfriend or something to try and cover us up.”

Taemin laughs. “That’s definitely not going to happen.”

“Then it’s fine. Whoever you’re dating or fucking is your business -- you don’t owe the world honesty about every part of your life.” He pokes Taemin under the table with his foot. “And that’s true even if you are a bit of a celebrity now.”

The teasing earns him a light kick under the table, but Taemin still smiles. “Thanks, hyung.” 

“Of course.”

Another silence falls between them. Taemin’s eyes are brimming with excitement, and Jinki can’t seem to suppress the grin he’s wearing. He leans across the table to rest a hand on Taemin’s arm, then whispers:

“I really wish I could kiss you right now.”

The flush that’d finally started to fade from Taemin’s cheeks reappears in an instant. He stands in a rush that nearly knocks over his chair and gestures hurriedly to Jinki’s beer.

“Finish that up, and we can go home. My parents are probably asleep by now.”

Heart fluttering at the thought of the night ahead of them, Jinki throws back the last of his drink. He gives a quick squeeze to Taemin’s hand after tossing it in a nearby bin.

“Let’s go, then.”

 

* * *

 

Their last few days in Korea feel like a real vacation. They spend most of the days with Taemin’s parents or friends, and the nights together, balancing their time between talking and bed. Jinki squeezes in a short catch-up with a friend over coffee the morning before their flight back and meets up with Taemin and the rest of the team at the airport.

Matches start up the day after they’re back. The time adjustment hits them both hard, limiting the amount of late-nights they can share. The first few times Taemin starts to come to his room again, it’s for short visits -- nothing more than Taemin joining him to watch something stupid on his laptop or lay in bed and chat -- but it doesn’t take long for them to get back to their usual.

The night Taemin slips into his room with a box in hand, he doesn’t know what to expect. It’s late enough that everyone else is already in bed, so it could be anything.

“Hey.” 

The door clicks as Taemin locks it behind him. He turns to Jinki with a nervous smile. 

“I was hoping you’d be up.”

“Yeah?” Jinki eyes the box in his hands. It’s unwrapped and undecorated, marked by nothing more than a shipping label across the top -- inconspicuous enough to make his first guess a vulgar one. “What’s in the box? Something fun for us to try?”

Taemin rolls his eyes and takes a seat on the edge of the Jinki’s bed, clutching the box tighter to his chest. “You know I don’t just come in here to fuck you anymore. I don’t know why you’re assuming it’s a sex toy or whatever.”

“I wasn’t assuming that,” Jinki lies. Taemin glares at him until his grin falls. “Okay, so maybe I did -- but that’s not a bad thing. I’m happy to see you either way.”

Taemin ducks his head with a nervous laugh. “I know.” 

His eyes stay down, and he says nothing more, giving Jinki a chance to examine the package in his hands. The box in his hands is still closed, though the packing tape has been ripped just enough to make it easy to get into. Nothing about the outside gives a clue at the contents, and Jinki’s too curious to let the silence sit. “Is this something for us, or for me?”

“For you,” Taemin says, voice small. “I ordered it while we were in Korea, after we talked about things...so it’d be ready a few days days after we got back.”

Jinki thinks of the overpriced jeans that Taemin had bought him. “...You really like to spoil me, huh?”

“This wasn’t that expensive. And it’s something I thought you needed, anyway.”

Jinki raises a brow, now even more curious. “Something I need?”

“Well-- not  _ need _ , but -- it fits your job, I guess?” He shakes his head, flustered, and shoves the box into his hands. “Just open it.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Jinki laughs and rips the last of the tape sealing the package.

The first thing he sees is a bright and familiar blue. He recognizes it instantly -- it’s the same blue he’s been seeing in-game on the Saviors’ characters for months, and the same blue that takes up the majority of their jerseys. 

“You got me a jersey?” Jinki asks, unsure what to say. He turns over the bag it came sealed in, looking for an easy spot to open, and stops when he sees the name shoulder. “You got me  _ your _ jersey.” 

“Yeah.” Taemin scratches the back of his neck. “I know you don’t have any shirts or anything for our team, even though you’re starting to go to games, so...I thought it’d be a good idea.”

Jinki tears open the plastic bag and pulls out the jersey, holding it up to his torso and smoothing it out with a grin. “Seems like it’ll fit, yeah?” 

“Think so, yeah,” Taemin agrees. He places a warm hand on Jinki’s thigh. “You like it?”

“Of course I do. You don’t think it’ll make the team suspicious of anything, though?”

“I think if they were going to notice and say something about it, that would’ve happened a while back.” 

“Mm, true.” 

He looks down at it again with a smile. It’s already been a few weeks since they got back from Korea, but every confirmation that they’re something  _ serious _ now still makes his heart float in his chest. He leans over, giving Taemin a quick peck on the lips, then pulls back with a cheeky smile.

“I like that it has your name on it. Did you buy this to make sure people know I’m yours?”

Taemin glares at him weakly. “ _ No _ , I didn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t mind if you had.” 

Jinki grabs Taemin and pulls him close, throwing off his balance enough that he falls naturally across Jinki’s lap. Taemin purses his lips, making a show of indignance even as he laces their fingers together and squeezes.

A blush covers his lips as he smiles up to Jinki. “Let’s say that I did, then.”


End file.
